Conflict Resolution

I love to sew. It’s my favorite part of my job, and it was here I first tasted the art.

This particular evening was absolutely surreal. The victims, if they could be called that, came in as a matched pair — both enormous women who seemed to be getting along famously. They were speaking amicably and in modest tones sitting side by side in the exam room. Everything seemed pretty normal except they were both sliced apart like gigantic dissected frogs. The bleeding could be defined as a steady global ooze. None of their breathtaking wounds seemed deep enough to have reached anything vital.

It was a med student’s dream. My first order of business was simply to satisfy my curiosity. These two women sported a series of random lacerations to their arms, breasts and bellies that could literally be measured in feet. I gently inquired concerning the details.

It seems these two women shared the affection of a certain gentleman. Love is a fickle, confusing thing and a close cousin to jealousy. Once it became known this dude was sampling the affections of both women, a bit of a row ensued. Inexplicably neither woman seemed inclined to vent her ample frustrations against the man in question. They rather both decided to kill the other interloper.