"Our Meat Facial today, Ms. Loeffler?" "Uhm, how's that." "You didn't get our offer in the mail? on special all this week, works miracles for the complexion--freshly killed, of course, before those enzymes've had a chance to break down, how about it?" "Well, I don't . . ." "Wonderful! Morris, kill . . . the chicken!" From the back room comes horrible panicked squawking, then silence. Maxine meantime is tilted back, eyelids aflutter, when-- "Now we'll just apply some of this," wham! ". . . meat here, directly onto this lovely yet depleted face . . ." "Mmff . . ." "Pardon? (Easy, Morris!)" "Why is it . . . uh, moving around like that? Wait! is that a-- are you guys putting a real dead chicken in my-- aaahhh!" "Not quite dead yet!" Morris jovially informs the thrashing Maxine as blood and feathers fly everywhere. Each"