Breast Inflation

“You said you had a bird problem!” Mavis fumed in front of the sandwich shop owner at the counter.

The man was middle-aged, portly with tannish skin, beady eyes and a bushy top lip. He winced, and nodded in acknowledgement at the pest doctor’s peeved glare.

This wasn't like Alice at all. She always thought things through, always planned for the worst. Her condition had defied her every effort to control it, and after far too many near-debacles and almost-disasters, she'd learned to be constantly vigilant for the first signs of a "gas attack". And when all her forethought and preparation inevitably came to naught, Alice made a point of learning from her mistakes. No longer did she keep her pills in a purse that she might misplace, like the last time, for example.