Fictionlet
“The weirdest profession I’ve ever heard of?” said Brigid. “That’s a tough one. It might be my cousin … she’s a throat model.”
Greg wrinkled his forehead trying to puzzle that out. “A throat model?”
“Yeah,” said Brigid. “You know what hand models are, right? People with attractive hands who gesture on TV commercials or pose for ring pictures, that kind of thing?”
“Uh huh?”
“Well, my cousin does that, except for her neck and shoulders. She’s always doing things like diamond necklace commercials. You know that big billboard of the woman in the strapless evening dress over on Ketlington? The jewelry ad with the round shoulders and the prominent collarbone? That’s my cousin.”
“Well,” said Greg, “throat model. Yes, that has possibilities.” He wrote something down on his notepad.
“Why do you ask?” said Brigid.
“Well, the hero of my next book needs a girlfriend.”
“And you’re going to make her a throat model, eh?”
“I just might, at that. Cervix with a smile!”
-The Gneech
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