A dark caption.

Horace Wesker, eighty-one, walked out of the shop and onto the street into the nice afternoon. He took a few steps out, looked down and smoothed out his skirt and sweater, then caught a glimpse of his new form in the reflection of a window.

He smiled, not bothering to try to hide the incision and instead took a closer look, checking it out in greater detail. He noticed how the hair hide most of it, but also how noticeable it truly was. He had hoped for it to be a bit more discreet but wasn't going to do anything to try and hide it, at least not at the moment.

As he looked at that reflection, he could not help but make small faces into the window just to see how his new face looked. She was very pretty, whoever she was, with a cute face and a great body. He hadn't felt this good in decades and thoroughly loved how his new body felt, especially his shaved legs. He didn't know why that was, maybe it was because he had been a hairy man all of his life, but the smoothness of it was very pleasant to him.

Well, whoever she was, while her body had already left this shop, there was still a part of her there, the part that was truly her. On display in the shop, displayed as a "film prop" was a jar with her brain in it. She came in looking for a gift and now her brain is on a shelf ready to be sold as a macabre gift. Quite the turn.