[ Plaztik's Classics ]
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note: as a number of readers found some of the offerings here overly disruptive, the non-illuminated stories are now accessible by invitation only.
the iManscripts, however, remain unfettered and easily reached.
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Illuminated Stories
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Non-Illuminated Stories
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selected titles from
the iManuscripts
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Pages
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The Ten Year Old Head
Julie died at seventy, but her head was only ten . . .
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1
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To The Dogs
There was a time when I, a surgeon to the lifted and sucked, spent the greater part of my day contemplating bums . . .
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4
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Amazon (featured iManuscript)
Dr. Olsen stood before me and professed to have stumbled upon a brilliant idea that had the potential to turn the world of plastic surgery on its ear (or maybe he said 'rear', I honestly can't remember now because my insides were on fire) . . .
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6
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Plaztik's House of Urgery: A Fable
Shortly after escaping from Aladdin's brass lamp after an unprecedented security lapse in the spring of 1921, or, if you prefer, once upon a time, Plaztik discovered that on the outside even pampered genies were expected to support themselves . . .
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Rosalyn's Face
Rosalyn lost her face in the shower. It peeled off under the hot water and washed away down the drain . . .
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Plastic Sturgeon
Her lids felt like closing as her gaze wandered over to the next line of waiting customers. He'd been staring at her from behind dropped sunglasses . . .
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Apples and Honey
Apples and Honey were genetic mirror-images of one another, identical twin sisters from Pasadena who, until the age of seventeen, seemed all but indistinguishable. Then Honey flew off her boyfriend's motorcycle and landed in the Huntington Hospital ICU . . .
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Informed Consent
I'm married to a plastic surgeon who refuses to operate on me . . .
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Going Down
Probably most patients showed up like this before their breast augmentations, so emotionally depleted that their sedation kicked in hard and fast . . .
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A Part of Them
Christine Edmonson, my Century City law partner of six years, broke the news bluntly. "The nerdy little narcissist drowned himself . . ."
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Horowitz The Surgeon
Tired out from a full day of surgery and with a mild headache from too much self-analysis, Dr. Horowitz hopped into bed, kissed his wife on the cheek, and snuggled his head into his NASA-foam pillow. As his mind sucked itself into a tunnel, the realization hit . . .
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selected titles from the
last patient of the morning
collection
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the last patient of the morning stories are longer and more contemplative. as such, they don't lend themselves to ready illumination and are less friendly to online readers.
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-- jimi
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The Chest That Launched a Thousand Slips
Last patient of the morning, medical staff meeting at noon, the need to catch-up. I grab the chart off the rack, don't recognize the name, knock once on the door, and walk in. A man sitting in the exam chair points a gun at me . . .
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Rumpled Still Skin
Last patient of the morning, face-lift in ten minutes, the need to catch up. I grab the chart off the rack, tap on the door, and walk in. A clown sitting in the exam chair points a gun at me . . .
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Executive Reform
Last patient of the morning, breast aug in ten minutes, the need to catch-up. I grab the chart off the rack, knock once on the door, and walk in. Before me sits the President of the United States . . .
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Body Shop
It's getting to be lunch time and he still hasn't showed. But here I'll sit, shivering on this vinyl exam table in a paper gown and skimpy panties, waiting for the door to open suddenly, waiting for this alleged pervert I've never met before to walk in and begin fondling my breasts . . .
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selected titles from the
first patient of the night
collection
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the first patient of the night stories are more inventive but also more disturbing, both to the non-literati who don't always understand that fiction is just that and to plastic surgeons who prefer that certain sensitive matters not be discussed. for now, you'll need to imagine where each story goes from just its few opening lines.
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-- jimi
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Spontaneous Propulsion
Weasel had a vision each time his eyes popped out . . .
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Rings In Her Fingers and Bells Through Her Nose
She may have weighed ninety pounds, but only if you included all of the metal dangling from her pierced and tattooed skin. With body fat approaching nill, this gothic supermodel demanded to be thinner. No way, I said, it isn't possible. Not so, she replied politely, I know of a way to do it . . .
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One Helluva Good Time
I used to be a psychologist who lived in Brentwood and drove a BMW. Today I'm a full-time working artist struggling to make ends meet. Whenever I reflect on how this came to happen, I always return to that crazy afternoon when Dr. Punk first encountered the flamboyant Lady Cromwell . . .
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Sympathetic Ophthalmia
He couldn't have known who I was, but I certainly knew him. Sitting in my exam chair next to his little red nymph was The Reverend Tommy Gooden, a bible-beating devil dodger once based in Shreveport who now ministered to a global congregation three times weekly and twice every Sunday, his wild combed-up brows and Elmer Gantry oratory beamed worldwide via cable, satellite, and the Internet from a soundstage in downtown Pasadena . . .
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Second Opinion
Arnold was born with his head connected backwards and so at age twenty-two decided to go forth in search of plastic surgery. Dr. Katz, an aesthetic spine surgeon, suggested a neck twist-o-plasty, but the cost was fifty-three thousand dollars, full healing took two years, and the risks included quadriplegia. Not one to make rash decisions, Arnold elected to obtain a second opinion . . .
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Asian Eyes
She was young and slim, a knockout by anybody's standards. Her skin was powder white, and her eyes were large and blue. I couldn't imagine why she'd come to me of all doctors, a facial plastic surgeon specializing in making heavy Korean eyelids look more Western. "I want you to get rid of these ugly creases," she said. "I want my eyes slanted and the openings narrowed." Her joke, I thought, was in poor taste. "Doctor," she said pleadingly as the tears began to spill," I want to be Japanese." . . .
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The Performer
Everybody was watching but not many were seeing. Lily motioned to the audience to be quiet, picked up the scalpel, and applied it to the skin. There was only a thin line between cosmetic surgery and mutilation and it was the prospect of crossing over that boundary that seemed of most interest to the crowd . . .
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Sheila Corwin's Nose
To the best of my recollection, it was only in the last moments before my death by drowning that I first began to appreciate the true gravity of my mistake . . .
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The Celestial Lift
For years now, the trend had been towards warm and cuddly names designed to attract the unwary. Still, this procedure's moniker not only put the rest to shame but lured a clientele unlike all others . . .
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Skin Graft
She'd been shopping for youth but been offered only beauty . . .
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Club 472: A Found Confession
As a man who has devoted his life to the eyelid, I can say with the highest degree of authority that to achieve a perfect result in cosmetic eye surgery requires one hundred forty-three main steps. Not one hundred forty-two, not one hundred forty-four. One hundred forty-three. Exactly.
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The Decline and Fall of the Plastic Empire
How could he have ever guessed that he was about to kill our specialty? . . .
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(illuminated . . . 
