If You Give A Skeleton A 3D Printer

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Meet Skeleton, usually from the pond, currently hiding out in the town library trying to 3D print a body. Humans tend not to take skeleton rights seriously otherwise, see.

And this skeleton needs to defend their rights, or else pfft goes their pond.

Of course, there might be an even bigger disaster lurking on the horizon…

A charming, heart-warming story about being yourself and finding your place in the world.

 

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Chapter 1: What The Skeleton Did In The Dark

I found the internet! So helpful!

It took three tries, but I broke into the local library at night, and I’ve been spending all my midnights researching 3D printing material that feels like skin. It’s not great, but I think I can get the squish right.

Let’s see… does Thingiverse have muscles?

No? Why not??

Oh, right, I’m the only immortal skeleton wandering around St Louis—or probably anywhere. How would I even know? How do you even start that conversation? “Hi, so… are you just an undying skeleton in a suit too?”

I don’t see that going well.

Okay… 3D scans of muscles… Oddly enough, Google is less helpful here.

I’m probably on a watch list now.

I know, 3D scans of famous statues.

Ooo! Do I want to be David or Venus de Milo? Hmmm. What was I when I was alive? I was… alive. Yup, remember that. I think I broke my leg once, pretty sure, there’s a line there that I have to glue up sometimes. I had an actual brain once too, but I guess some things soak into the bones and some things don’t.

Maybe I’ll print one set of muscles from each?

…Did you know the David statue was 17 feet tall? I did not.

Venus is 6’8”. Eat your heart out, Gwendoline Christie!

(Gwen, if you read this, don’t be mad. I love you. I watched you in Game Of Thrones through someone’s window. Let’s be shopping buddies!

…I’m not a creeper, it’s just hard to get people to invite you inside when you’re a skeleton that smells like decayed leaves at the bottom of the lake.)

Okay… Now… Order the stretchable printing filament… I figure I can use the MacGregors’ shed, it has electricity and Mister MacGregor hasn’t used the workshop since he broke his hip two years ago.

Can I use wood glue on my new muscles or do I need to buy a special glue?

Is there bone glue?

…Would I be able to get bone glue at the vet’s office?

I hate going to the hospital, it’s always so awkward. I sat down once and wound up hanging in an office for a week before they wheeled me into a corner where I could grab something and escape. I still have the eye-loop screw thingy in my head.

Speaking of which, a wig. I need a wig. And makeup. Apparently I’m a girl now.

Right. Do I need boobs?

No, the internet says my secondary sexual characteristics do not determine my gender. Good to know.

Wait, I’m Venus, I have boobs. Do I need a bra? …I’m thinking no. Bras are expensive.

Okay… Muscles, super glue, 3D printer, wig, makeup… Clothes? Um… Yes. I probably need those. They probably won’t let a naked person into the planning office, even if she looks like Venus de Milo (or Gwendoline Christie). Fine. Clothes.

What size am I?

Size zero! Ahahaha! I crack myself up.

I better buy more glue. HA.

There we go. In three weeks I will have a new fleshy mass over my bony self and I can march into the planning office and demand my pond be left alone. My pond will be saved and I can go back to reading whatever falls to the bottom and sneaking out on Halloween.

They’re putting some new houses up across the road, I should go lay in the dirt with an arrowhead and see if I can get this area declared a piece of historic importance.

I wonder if they could do a DNA test to see what I was when I still had skin. That’d be a hoot.

Ah, humans. such fun. But, you know what they say: Si non unum, terrent eos! (If you can’t be one of them, terrify them.)

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