Our final creepy Halloween tale is a bastardization of several Renaissance classics with a silicone twist. I like to call this one “Lady MacFaust.” I’m sure Marlowe and Shakespeare are turning over in their graves.
Lady MacFaust grew up on a dairy farm in rural Pennsylvania. From the time she was a young girl, she always dreamed of being a glamorous model. Late at night, after the rest of her family would go to sleep, she would sneak out into the barn to practice her runway walk. Her determination was unyielding, and despite the dismissive disparagement of her Amish parents, she was confident that one day she would have the last laugh.
On the eve of her 18th birthday, Lady MacFaust ran away from her dairy prison, vowing to never return again. She hopped on a Greyhound bus headed for Los Angeles, armed with a pipe dream and a sense of romantic naivety that would soon be shattered as she gets thrown to the wolves in the rat race that is the L.A. modeling scene.
Yes, that’s right. Our poor Lady MacFaust found that breaking into the modeling scene was far more difficult than she imagined. After years of perfecting the perfect runway turn, she figured fashion magazines would be falling all over her to sign her to a lucrative contract.
Unfortunately, what Lady MacFaust failed to realize was that she was not endowed with the proper genetics to take the L.A. modeling world by storm. With her 5’4” frame, shaggy red hair, pale freckled face, and paltry A-cup breasts, she didn’t stand a chance against the local California stock – the devastatingly attractive 5’8”, long-legged, blonde bombshells who held a stranglehold on the modeling scene. Oh, and their perky, augmented C-cup and D-cup breasts didn’t exactly hurt their cause either.
By her 19th birthday, Lady MacFaust was a broken girl – beat down by a long year of constant rejection at the hands of luscious, big breasted California beach models. Her romantic naivety had completely eroded into a sense of utter desperation. With very little money left in her Amish piggy bank, she was in danger of returning to her milk farm captivity where she would be barraged by a litany of condescending “I told you so’s” from a her self-righteous family. This was an unacceptable fate.
It seems that by chance, the devil was lurking in the underbelly of Los Angeles just at this very moment, looking for a new trophy to place on his fiery mantelpiece. His last victim, Lindsay Lohan, had long been at rock bottom. With no prospects for a second act, the devil had recently pulled the plug on Lohan, claiming her soul for all of eternity. In an effort to break free of the boredom that had engulfed him in the wake of Lohan’s dramatic demise, the devil decided to pounce on the meatball laid out there by Lady MacFaust.
The devil conjured his powers of manipulation to transform himself into the form necessary to entrap his latest victim – he became a talent agent. The agent approached Lady MacFaust one evening while she was drowning her sorrows in a bottomless glass of whiskey. He offered her a fool-proof path to the fame and fortune she so desperately sought.
“You have potential, but it has not been properly developed,” he explained to Lady MacFaust as she guzzled her fifth glass of Bourbon. “With my help, you can be the most famous model on the planet.”
Lady MacFaust’s ears began to perk up.
“The first thing we need to do is get you some breast implants so that you can compete with the rest of the lot in this silicone-enhanced cesspool. I’ll make an appointment for you with my plastic surgeon for early next week. He’s the best in the business. He’s performed breast augmentation on all of the A-list Hollywood celebrities. But I’m warning you, this will not be enough. We have to overcome your frizzy red hair, pasty freckled face, and diminutive height as well. This will require a little bit of my magic. I have the power to transform you into the prototypical supermodel, but in order for my powers to work, you will have to take the lives of three famous supermodels – Heidi Klum, Alessandra Ambrosio, and Marisa Miller. Only then will I be able to provide you with the right match of physical traits to make you the world’s next great supermodel.”
While Lady MacFaust had always been a good girl, her recent tough times had endowed her with a moral flexibility that she never imagined possible as a young Amish girl growing up on a dairy farm in Pennsylvania. Killing these three women seemed like a small price to pay to accomplish her life’s dream. Without hesitation, she signed the devil’s contract. Of course, she never read the fine print stating that her soul now belonged to him.
The next week, Lady MacFaust visited the agent’s plastic surgeon to undergo breast augmentation. Little did she know, but the plastic surgeon was also the devil in another one of his trusty disguises. His hands worked magic on her, providing her with beautiful breast implants unrivaled by any other. Lady MacFaust was starting to believe.
Several weeks later, fate (possibly through the manipulative powers of the devil) presented her with a golden opportunity. All three supermodels were appearing at a Victoria’s Secret event in downtown Los Angeles. The devil arranged for Lady MacFaust to get hired as a server at the event and provided her with a special poison which would be undetectable by autopsy. Lady MacFaust placed a few drops of the poison in each model’s drink. The next morning, they were all dead and Lady MacFaust had transformed into a 5’9”, blonde hair, blue-eyed bombshell with perfect breast implants to support her new body. She was in utter disbelief. Her dream was about to come true.
Within days, the devil was able to land her high profile modeling contracts – cover shoots for Maxim and the Sports Illustrated swim suit issue. Even Victoria’s Secret decided to bring her on in an attempt to replace their recently deceased lingerie models.
Lady MacFaust’s star was rapidly rising. She became an overnight sensation, adorning the walls of horny teenage boys across the world. It was everything she always dreamed it would be. She was the next great supermodel.
But Lady MacFaust’s Amish moral code began to gnaw away at her conscience. She became overwrought with guilt over her murderous actions. She started having trouble sleeping, and over time, she began to unravel. Every time she looked at her new breast implants, they appeared to be covered in the blood of the three supermodels who fell victim to her unchecked ambition. Lady MacFaust began to fear that others could see the blood as well. She began regularly rubbing her breasts to rid them of this blood.
At first, this rubbing of her breasts only caused a minor disturbance to the photographers who were patiently waiting to take her picture. After a few quick reminders, Lady MacFaust would stop this rubbing and return to posing for the camera. But over time, this rubbing became more frequent and more vigorous.
Her sponsors began to wonder what was wrong with her. Was she so infatuated with her breasts that she could not leave them alone? Could she be this vain? Was she just a horn-dog better suited for porn than for magazine covers? Eventually, it got to the point where she couldn’t be photographed without it looking like she was groping her breasts in the picture.
Her constant breast groping became an occupational hazard. While she may have been the most beautiful supermodel on the planet, her inability to keep her hands off her boobs ultimately drove away all of her employers. No one wanted to be associated with someone that narcissistic.
As quickly has her star rose, it began to plummet. She returned to the devil, demanding that he work his magic once more. But it was too late. Realizing the end was near, the devil revealed himself to Lady MacFaust. He informed her that there was nothing more he could do for her and that it was only a matter of time before her soul belonged to him.
In a fit of rage, Lady MacFaust grabbed a steak knife from her kitchen counter and began gouging out her satanic breast implants. Bloody silicone shot across the room as her efforts intensified. After a few minutes, the symbol of Lady MacFaust’s undoing lay on the floor in a pile of lumpy, bloody silicone. But this wasn’t enough for Lady MacFaust. Still seeing the blood of her victims all over her chest, she continued gouging. And gouging. And gouging.
Pretty soon, she was nothing more than a hollowed out carcass. The devil returned to Hell with her soul in tow, yet another trophy for his fiery mantelpiece.
Don’t be like Lady MacFaust. Don’t let the devil perform your breast augmentation. He may provide you with perfect results, but you may lose your soul in the process. Instead, contact an experienced plastic surgeon to schedule your initial consultation. He may not turn you into a supermodel, but at least you’ll keep your soul.
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