One morning, very early, a strange man showed up at my office. He told me to write a story about an insane request I got for a surgery. I felt compelled to. I don't know what came over me, but here I am at my desk after hours, writing an account of the man who wanted his brain replaced with a V8 engine. A couple months ago, a man came into my office. He had two bodyguards following him. So he was rich. He came up to my desk and asked me this exactly: "Can you replace my brain with a V8? I think it'll work a bit better than my current brain."

"Are you fucking loony? Of course I can't, you're not a fucking car!" I usually wasn't this rude, but this request made me unfathomably angry.

"I'm leaving. See if you get any more business after this!" He stalked out of my office, bodyguards trailing behind. A short encounter indeed, but I chose this one for a reason. So I could leave my desk already, because it's fucking late.

Yours Truly, Dr. Murphy

i cannot write well, r/storyjunkyard for more disposable tales