There was a worrying slither and plopping sound. My left boob felt worryingly light.
I looked down at Mike’s plate. There appeared to be two chicken breasts. One a lot more silicone-y than the other.
There was deathly silence.
Everyone was staring at me. Or more specifically my left boob. Or sudden lack thereof.
This was definitely the first time this many people had noticed my boobs and contrary to my expectations I was not enjoying it.
My chicken filet ex-boob-enhancer slithered down slightly into Mike’s gravy.
‘OH MY GOD, IT’S A BOOBIE!’ he screamed.
Four demonic figures slipped silently through the crowd. I blinked and three were gone, lost in the darkness, but I could still see one heading my way. Then I realised that the trap was already set — the others had split off to surround me. There was nowhere to run. I was like a wounded gazelle, cut off from the herd. Except the creatures stalking me were not lions or cheetahs. They were not of this world. They were teenage girls.