"Doctor, did the surgery go well?"
"Ah yes. Your vagina has been successfully transformed into a penis, and I believe you will be quite pleased with the results."
"What?! I didn't want a penis! I was here to have a knee replacement."
"Oh, you're still disoriented from the anesthetic. Don't worry: it will all be fine."
"But I don't want a penis."
"The time for doubt is gone, I'm afraid."
"But I REALLY don't want a penis. I am happy to be a woman."
"ALL women want a penis, on some level. Freud, you know."
"Turn it back! Please!"
"I'm afraid we can't do that. Once you mash the potatoes you can't un-mash the potatoes. Your potatoes are mashed."
"But I'm a happily married woman. Married to a man."
"I'm sure your husband will still love you just the same. Mostly."
"This is horrible..."
"You should have thought about that before the surgery."
"But it was supposed to just be a knee replacement!"
"All kinds of unexpected things can occur during surgery. I'm still missing a pen from three years ago: I don't know which patient THAT fell into."
"My life is over."
"Actually, that was my previous patient. Died right on the table. Sad: she never got to wake up and enjoy the experience of having a penis. She would've considered you lucky, I imagine."
"I.m serious: I think I want to die."
"Don't be so melodramatic. You women: you can add a penis to you, but you still get all woman-like about things."
"What does THAT mean?"
"Woman-like: irrational. Melodramatic. Prone to hysteria. It's not your fault, of course: it's genetic."
"What am I going to tell my husband?"
"I'm a surgeon, not a psychiatrist. Can't help you there."
"I think I just want to be alone."
"Sure, I understand. Just don't start playing with the penis yet: we don't want it coming off in your hands..."
I am Laslo.
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