eliza brook was extremely ugly. upon entering any room, wallpaper would immediately fall from the walls. not only this. flagstones would curl up at the edges upon the sight of her noggin. she was not a monster. it was just that every part of her face was horrible. instead of sloping down, her nose sloped up. her eyes were fine. but they were upside down. and her ears were also passable, except the left one was where the right one should have been and vice versa. plants and trees would bend away from her as if blown by an offshore wind. construction companies would hire her to glare at abandoned commercial buildings as a means of cheap demolition.
then something wonderful happened. eliza was run over by a combine harvester.
that harvester achieved something that no surgeon ever could. eliza was good looking. every curve had been clipped to a perfect flat. every harsh point smoothed to a delectable curve. the perfect peachy skin. the assassins eyes. she was so hot, she smoked. eggs would fry on her thighs. small birds would fold her laundry and peg it on the washing line, like in snow white and talking mice scurried out of her closet with pins and spools of thread. the U.N. would parachute-drop her into war-torn countries and both sides would immediately congo.