She told everyone she wanted her kid back.

She told everyone she wanted her kid back. She even wrote to social services. But of course, she did NOT want her kid back. She wanted that thing they call free time, that sweet

sentiment of doing whatever the fuck she wanted. 12 midnight, hook up with a stranger, 5 o'clock am, grab a pack of smokes, 10 o'clock am, head to the gym (fuck a shower)

. In fact, she hadn't showed in 3 weeks now. Why waste time when there were more important things to do. Smoking, sexing, and fitness. That was the life for her. A life she was

damn good at. Especially the smoking. She was a grand champion smoker, lighting them by the fistfull, smoking like a 1986 Subaru Loyale with a blown head gasket, inserting smokes

in her ears and nostrils, that was 158 cigarettes, but still didn't get her in the Guiness book because the guy holding it smoked 159. Then she thought of a place she could put

those last 2 cigarettes and quickly had the sensei cut another hole in her trachea, shove two cigarettes in, and make a sandwich. Smoking made her hungry. Unusual, yes, but

she'd had her nicotinic receptors modified after reading a tip in Ladies Gene Therapy. She felt like a cruise ship with the two cigs in her throat. As sensei made her a sandwich,

the smoke spewing from her neck mixed with the ship's smoke, forming a skull-and-crossbones. The pirate vessel nearest them interpreted it as a battle cry. The initial cannonfire

was an accidental ignition while the deck hands were performing routine maintenance.

The foam sprinklers kicked in, the sirens sounded, and the lights strobed red. Inspired, the deck hands kicked into an improptu rave. "Join the Navy!" was a recruiting hit.