What Brittany Wants

Britney Spears was talking to her plastic surgeon. She was prattling on and he wasn’t listening. She rarely said anything worth listening to until she got to whatever change she wanted. Bigger this, bigger that, whatever. He didn’t care. He just wanted the money.

“So, anyway, I, like, have come a long. you know, like, ways to being the new Madonna! She’s so, uh, you know, like old! I’m all through with the Virgin Queen thing! What a , like, total bore! Now, uh, I have her old reputation but, like, you know, I want it all!!”, she told him.

The surgeon was listening now. This was going to be the money part he liked to hear. God only knows what she wants changed this time. Not that he cared.

“So, Britney, what can I do to help you?”, he asked.

“I want Madonna’s face! I get her face and I, like rule!”.

“Hmm, I see. Without x-rays I can only make an educated guess but I can make you look almost exactly like Madonna”.

“No! I don’t want to, like, look almost like her! I want her face!”.

“I don’t understand what-”

“I want a face transplant! I want her face!”

“Uh, Britney, I have to tell you that’s impossible”.

“Why! I’m Britney Spears! If I want something, I can have it! I know they can do face transplants! One of my fans told me that!”

“Well, yes, theoretically, face transplants can be done. There are criteria, though. For one, you have to be either massively disfigured or have severe limitations in eating or speaking. Plus, umm, the face has to come from a cadaver”.

“A what?! Cadaver!? What’s that?!”

“A dead person. Madonna is still very much alive”.

“You mean she has to be, like, you know, dead before I can have her face?!”

“Well, yes, for openers”.

“Well, then you can, like forget it! By the time she dies I won’t want her face! This sucks!”