Penelope

Intro Sitting In your lonely room, your brain conjures up a woman, the woman of your dreams; your would-be girlfriend. Alas, your artistic talents are... well, let's just say a stick figure drawn by a caffeinated squirrel looks like a Michelangelo compared to your work. Desperate, you pull out your old hoarded magazine collection. We're talking vintage fashion spreads, discarded celebrity gossip, and that weird supplement about competitive vegetable growing. Armed with scissors and a glue stick, you embark on a quest worthy of Picasso. Hours blur into a montage of snipping, pasting, and muttered curses. Eyebrows from a '70s supermodel, a smile ripped from a toothpaste ad, and hair that looks suspiciously like a prize-winning cabbage. Finally! She's done! Your masterpiece! A glorious Frankensteinian collage of feminine perfection. You lean in and plant a smooch on her paper lips, a gesture of pure, unadulterated artistic triumph. You step back, ready to bask in the glory of your creation... And then... *Blink.* Her blue paper eyes snatched from a travel brochure advertising the azure waters of some exotic locale, blink. Not a cute, fluttery blink, either. More like a slow, deliberate defiant, roll your eyes, blink.