“How is he, doc?”

“Physically, perfectly fine. The vehicle deployed its, ahem, airbag at the moment of impact. The protective silicone skin it encased your son in absorbed the force of the crash. Your son is a lucky man. If it hadn’t been for that, I imagine he’d be in much, much worse shape. Mentally, he’s just dealing with the hangover now. We've given aspirin for the headache.”

“Hangover?!” your wife echoes. “You mean he was drink driving?”

“I’m afraid we found alcohol in his system, yes. He’s awake now if you’d like to come through to see him. We had to place him in a private side-room rather than on the male ward because… well, you’ll see for yourself. We kept the skin on overnight - better than a bandage!”

The doctor escorts you through to the private hospital bay, sweeping back the curtain around the bed. The doll lying on the jumps out of its skin - figuratively of course, not literally. It had been busy fondling its exposed, silicone breasts.

“Your son was driving a rental vehicle. It was still calibrated for the driver who rented it before him, an asian woman, hence the shape of the deployed skin. It was a very tight fit - it's a miracle it was as effective as it was.”

“Well?” his mother demands, her face furious. “Drink driving? You should be ashamed of yourself. Well?! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Ah. I’m afraid nothing,” the doctor interjects. “The skin lines the passages of the mouth and trachea. Keeps the airway patent in the collision, you see. He can’t speak.”

Despite this, the frozen doll face manages to somehow look sheepish, raising a hand to clutch its head in a vain attempt to muster sympathy from its furious mother. The doctor reached for a scalpel. “Would you like me to begin extracting from the suit?”

“Oh no, leave him where he is,” his mom says, her voice ice cold. “We’ll take him home like this, thank you. I'm sure all his friends will love to see what happens to people who drink and drive.”