“Wheel it in, Igor. Carefully please, don’t bump the skull.”
Igor, as usual, did not have much to say. He pushed the gurney into the lab and stood back, crossing his arms and waiting expectantly. He knew what to expect; perverse glee and pontification. His foot began a slow tap as I examined our new guest this evening.
“Goodness Igor. She’s lovely. You have a thing for brunettes, don’t you? Lovely hands, this one hasn’t done much floor-scrubbing. Nice muscle tone. I suspect we have a jogger, maybe tennis? Yes, at the very least we’ll have a fine supply of parts from this one. Almost a shame to eviscerate her, eh Igor?”
I began making the first incision, starting atop the sternum and down the length of her central torso, a median sternotomy incision.
“You know, when I was about young lady’s age I was attending the finest medical schools in Europe. I studied under all of the greats, you know. Oxford, Heidelberg, Karolinska. I was such a busy boy, study and practice and study some more.”
Thoracotomy, opening up the side of her chest.
“You could attend medical school, Igor. I’m sure I could swing you an invitation to study a Harvard, at the very least. And your knowledge of anatomy grows almost daily. This specimen, for example. We’re so lucky you stumbled on such a young and healthy beaut—
I stooped and examined the scar, good surgical work, very fine and hard to detect but it was there.
“Oh, Igor. Breast implants?”
Igor began cowering back, raising his hands to protect his head from the beating. “Sorry, master!”
“I have told you to again and again to stay away from those gentlemen’s clubs.”
Take a complicated subject you know more about than most people, and explain it to a friend who knows nothing about it at all.
Igor’s eyes, bigger than his brain