A damn dark caption.

"You know how stupid this wig looks, right? It's not just me?" Harold said, turning to face Mr. Richards.

"I know, but it was all we could find on short notice. We needed something to cover the fact that we had to shave your head for the surgery, and to cover up the incision."

"You forgot I had a forehead?" Harold asked.

"No, it's just we didn't have anything that would work on hand that would work well enough. Besides, it is far easier to explain your forehead than to explain an incision all around your head, right?"

Harold had to concede that, and put feminine hands on shapely hips.

"Yes, I guess it is. At least we got this over and done with. Where is my body?"

"Your body will be discovered in the basement tomorrow morning. Don't worry, we arranged for a friendly medical examiner to come and declare, upon a thorough autopsy that will open up your head, that you died of a cerebral hemorrhage. Of course it will go unsaid that your old head was previously opened and that the brain in it was already detached from the spine."

"Of course." Harold said. "As for Miss Spiner..."

"Limited social media, no immediate family,, no close friends. No one will miss her. As for your new identity Miss Davis I already have all of it ready. So, now that we have the unpleasantness out of the way, we should go greet our guests. Tell me one thing, though, Helen, why not cancel tonight?"

"Because I keep my word, and I wasn't going to let something like a brain transplant cause me to cancel. So, why don't I go out, and explain why Harold can't be in attendance!"