Big toes can be thumbs. Mice can grow human ears on their backs. Noses can be grown upside down on the foreheads of men who try to climb Mt. Everest. Little people can have the bones in their forearms, shins and thighs extended with metal halos. And now, German men can grow jaw bones in their back muscles.

If I had the choice, I'd grow butt cheeks on the palms of my hands, and then spend three years in the jungle honing my clapping talents. Upon my return, I'd challenge that guy who can snap his fingers like a thousand times a minute to a hand-noise face-off. After watching his pathetic display of wispy arm and wrist movements and listening to the extended version of his best click-clacky finger solo, I would stand motionless and silent for a long moment, allowing him and the audience time to prepare themselves for what no one ever thought was possible. Assuming a wide stance with bent knees, I would swing my arms behind my back, touching my middle fingers together. Then, with the swiftness of a king cobra, I would strike my applebottom palms together, shattering the pocket of air between me and the snapper; throwing him backwards off of his feet. As the snapper is no quitter, he would try feebly to get in some last second snaps before falling to the ground, but I would quickly clap again, sending him through a storefront window.

Years later, I would dream of being able to open car doors and jars of peanut butter without assistance, but I would never regret having ass hands.