Beaurevoir - Boy and Surgeon

Boy and Surgeon (variation) by the amazing English author and satirist Beaurevoir (best known for his extreme and violent Harry Potter fanfictions, which may be found at AO3 on the link: [[https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beaurevoir/pseuds/Beaurevoir]] ), conceived and penned on Monday, 20th of July, 2026, over the course of roughly an hour, and, after some deliberation, released via the medium of Pastebin on Tuesday 21st of July, 2026, the link for which has been safely archived, or ought to have been.

 

The text itself begins following this line.

 

A boy and his pet slug are in a car accident and the pet slug sadly dies, in agony as it is crushed under the wheels of a ten-tonne lorry.

 

The boy is urgently rushed to hospital and is taken to an operating room (they ran out of operating theatres) by the panicking nurses, who are whimpering and cowering as they fear for his life. But inside it, they find the slug, which starts violently defecating everywhere.

 

A surgeon arrives at last, having been urgently rushed in, but, seeing his own son in such a critical condition is too much for the surgeon’s weak and pathetic heart, and he sadly passes away.

 

The hospital, woefully understaffed, soon find a new surgeon, who arrives, and then, seeing the boy, approaches, his hands quivering, and says softly, “I can’t operate on him. He is my son.”

 

But the assistant surgeon, ever the sceptic, says cruelly, “Stop lying, you don’t have any kids.”

 

The surgeon shrugs, and says “I guess you are right,” and jumps out the window, plummeting down 5 storeys to his death.

 

The hospital, now panicking, bring in a surgeon from retirement, but the surgeon says, “Sorry, I can’t operate on him, I don’t have arms; I lost them in that very same car accident. I just got out of surgery myself.”

 

Now, down to their last chance, the boy’s condition deteriorating rapidly, the hospital rings in another surgeon, who arrives as fast as possible. However, this surgeon, despite trying to outwardly present as a woman, has very broad shoulders and a very strong jaw, unusually so. This surgeon sees the boy, and, head shaking, says, “I can’t operate on him, I am his mother. I bore him in my own womb.”

 

But the assistant surgeon, always the sceptical one (he even doesn’t believe in the moon landings), counters, “That can’t be right, you were born a man.”

 

The surgeon shrugs and says, “Oh yeah, well, I got gender assignment surgery when I was 10 years old. I am as much of a woman as any other woman, bigot. I even got breast implants when I was twenty, but they fell out after the surgeon I had then forgot to close the holes he slotted them in through, and it was in that moment I decided to become a surgeon, so I could do better.”

 

The assistant surgeon says, “Well, still, you can’t possibly be his mother or his father. That means you are dumb and stupid. Oh, by the way, I am fat and have severe untreated diabetes.”

 

In all this time bickering though, the boy had succumbed to his injuries, and died. All he had for company was the little squashed slug in his pocket, which, as it transpired, had never defecated at all in the first place.”