When Mr. M came to their house, Little Gigi and her sister could hardly believe the fact- That he was not their late papa Such was the resemblance Perfected by Mr. M to a T Even the mole-thing on his cheek Looked the same as their papa's.
You could hire Mr. M To Metamorphose into any person you wanted -A dead husband or a quadriplegic wife (i.e. before they became dead or quadriplegic) Or a celebrity beyond your reach Or a college sweetheart- Mr. M would transform into that person With the right prosthetics and measurements. (Besides, he had a highly Malleable and characterless body) He'd learn their manners by watching videos.
Little Gigi would not run into his arms Unless he called her the way her papa did Mr. M cast a sidelong glance at the mother At whose smile he regained confidence and cooed: "Come to papa, my bouncing ball" At which the girl shot herself into his arms Like a cannonball. Her sister followed her, although indifferently, Her hands behind her back. Little Gigi thanked her mother For hiring the man.
Mr. M's service lasted for a period of three months Or until the clients got over their feelings for the person. Mr. M was sworn to secrecy About his clientele and his 'lives'. Nobody bothered about his true identity So long as his name was reduced to a Mystery. Mr. M never forgot the details of his 'lives', Unlike how his ad had once claimed- Which he later removed (and no one seemed to notice) As he was taking a hot bath- His mind wandered to a recent life. Dressed up as a woman named Jessy Peter Mr. M was ushered into the bedroom by his nervous client- A bestubbled young man rejected by Ms. Peter. He said he was drowning in a pool of jealousy As she kept taking one lover after another. Sweat ran down his face As he took off Mr. M's skirt- And with apprehensive fingers Pulled down the *******. His face shone brightly At the perfection of the work But his expression soon changed To a blank faced melancholy He said he was still heartbroken As he could n't **** the real Jessy Peter (Stubbly cheeks against Mr. M's fat shaved thighs He whimpered through the night like a child).
Little Gigi said Mr. M smelled exactly like her papa. Mr. M smiled, taking it as a compliment. "...like boiled beef," she added. Even after Little Gigi had left, Her sister remained a little longer. Then, slowly she placed her bottom- On Mr. M's hairy thigh and sat there, Her eyes fixed on the wall opposite Mr. M, nonplussed, broke into a sweat And thought, of all things he could do right now, Stroking her hair was the only right thing. The girl sat like that for a while and then While leaving she said he was a nice person- Unlike her late papa.