She left a note

There would be hell to pay when the media got ahold of this one, Chris Crumpet thought to himself when he got the phone call from the field operations in Dubuque, Iowa.

In seven years of operations, their movement had never incurred a fatality. But thjs morning, it had finally happened. Aging Is Beautiful would be dragged through the mud because of this – and the Youth-ites who’d been elected to Congress in the cataclysmic mid-terms would be introducing legislation to stop them.

Chris dreaded the consequences when they read the papers tomorrow morning. Tiffany Bump from Dubuque, Iowa had lowered herself into a bathtub of hot water with a hair dryer. Plugged in and turned on. And she’d left a note, even more damning. My life is no longer worth living. My parents won’t allow me to get a face-fall, and they won’t allow me to dye my hair gray, and they won’t allow me to have purple spider veins tattooed onto my legs. I’ll never be beautiful like Grandma Pickens, and I’ll never drive that Mercury Grand Marquis I’ve been wanting for a year now.

Chris had taken the call from Iowa field operations. All was in an uproar there, people screaming at each other, hitting each other with their canes, rolling their wheel chairs outside into the middle of traffic. He’d better call New York and see how they could spin this one.