My girlfriend is probably the luckiest gal on earthmermermereffdsfas

Sorry about that. Like I said, my girlfriend is probably the luckiest gal on earth. She officially hit the jackpot the day she met me. I’m a catch. A serious catch!

Don't believe me? Let’s go over the checklist: rockstar neurosurgeon who drives a silver Mercedes and holidays in the South of France six times a year. Not to mention has a huge…bank balance.

So you can imagine my reaction when Maggie announce she was leavdfkasjfekj

Sorry. Try to ignore that.

So you can imagine my surprise when Maggie announced she was walking out.

It was because of my research, you see. Six years ago the men in the fancy suits came to me with a proposal. They needed a world-class surgeon to perform insanely complex, experimental surgeries. We’re talking operations you won’t read about in medical textbooks for another thirty years. Think head transplants and the separation of conjoined twins.

And that’s just for starters…

Was every procedure a success? No. Not even close. But such is the cost of progress.

Unfortunately, Maggie didn’t see it that way. The morning she stumbled across my case notes she was horrifitearsaddfsafdsa

Hang on…okay. Ready.

The experimenting on children REALLY sent her over the edge.

“Didn’t their parents even give consent?” she asked.

I contemplated for a moment. “You know, I never asked.”

She thought she could just hand back her ring, climb in her car, and drive off into the sunset, casual as you like. Fuck that. Nobody walks out on me.

I hopped into my Mercedes and went after her, raindrops pounding against the windshield. I caught up with her on the motorway and, when she refused to pull over, rammed her off the road.

Her vehicle careened into a ditch, hurling her straight through the dashboard, and then rotated three-hundred-and-sixty degrees.

Her legs wound up pinned beneath the bonnet. From the waist down she looked like linguine—there isn’t a doctor alive who’d even consider the possibility she might have survived.

Except me, of course…

Using my belt, I stifled the bleeding, cut her loose, rushed her to my facility, and quickly got to worksdfadsfdfasfsefgdsfgd

Damn it. Last time, I swear.

Even with a few shots of vodka and a whole lot of drugs, that operation was no stroll through the park. I had to wire Maggie’s circulatory system into my own, then link up our bowels and stomach. Since I’m right-handed, I attached her lower torso to my left hip.

And I’m pleased to say that, after an exhaustive, twenty-hour procedure, she survived.

She’s still adapting to our new body. It’s quite a dramatic change, obviously. She's still a little shaken up, which is why she won’t quit reaching over to mash the damn keyboard, all while screaming like a horse in distress. But she’ll come around.

The important thing is that she’s still one of the luckiest women alive. Because now, she gets to spend every waking moment with me 🙂