“The surgery went perfectly, Mr. Henderson, with no complications at all. Don't mind the restraints, they're just to prevent you from accidentally pulling out the IV's. How do you feel?”
“How do I feel? HOW DO I FEEL?”
“It’s a simple enough question.”
“I feel like a LITTLE KID! I came in here for cosmetic surgery!”
“You said you wanted to look younger. Now you do. I don’t see the problem.”
“I wanted to LOOK younger! You turned me into a freaking twelve-year old!”
“Actually, I didn’t turn you into a twelve-year old. I transplanted your brain and a portion of your spinal cord into the body of a twelve-year old.”
“WHAT? I came in for plastic surgery!”
“Well, you did check the box that said I could try experimental techniques as part of the process.”
“You told me that meant things like using a new type of suture!”
“It does. Normally that’s all I would have done, but the opportunity came up...”
“How does that kind of opportunity come up?”
“Well, Dr. Jurgens had a patient in for a mole removal and the child reacted to the anaesthetic...”
“And you figured it would be a great chance to play Frankenstein? To make me into some kind of freak?”
“Don’t worry, the mole is gone. You’re not a freak, just a perfectly normal twelve-year old with the brain of a middle-aged man.”
“This is a nightmare! Doc, put me back in my own body!”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr. Henderson. In order to get the required neural material out without damage, we had to cut away your body. In pieces.”
“PIECES?”
“You have to break a few eggs if you’re going to make an omelette.”
“I’ll sue!”
“You’re too young to sign the paperwork.”
“I am not! I can prove I’m not a kid!”
“And how would you do that, Mr. Henderson? All your biometrics are those of a child.”
“What about the surgical scars?”
“Oh, they’ll be totally invisible in a few days. I used a new type of suture.”
“You bastard! So now I have to live out the next several years as a little boy?”
“Not exactly. There were no little boys in the office today.”