Cynthia theatrically flung open the wardrobe. “Well?”
After an awkward pause, Greg said, “It’s…”
“I know! Isn’t it?” enthused Cynthia.
Greg paused. He wasn’t actually sure what he had been going to say. “It” was some kind of all-of-the-neons polka-dotted dress thing. “Yes,” he managed at last, “it really is.”
Once there was a very ugly duckling. It got a lot of sympathy from people in the park, who thought it was so ugly that it rounded the far end of the spectrum and was somehow cute instead.
So the normal ducklings got jealous and beat the ugly duckling up.
“Here’s a neat trick,” he said.
He opened his mouth, real wide. He inserted his hand, then his arm, down his throat. His shoulder dislocated to go farther down. He stopped. Then his arm came back up, and he pulled himself inside out.
“What do you think?”
“You’re still ugly.”