Well, not me, exactly: Thomasina.

She’s made a name for herself.

Another one.

Modelling.

She went along to Fingers’ Marketing Bureau, after caking herself in subtle makeup. 

She was excited to find out exactly what it was she was modelling.  In her mind’s eye, she was draped across the bonnet of a jet black sports car, so she had to make sure she stood out. Not that she likes attention, oh no!

Maybe she would be advertising a drink… yes, a powerful energy drink that creates a wonderful complexion… ot perhaps she was modelling a new chocolate bar. Her mouth watered at that thought

At the reception desk, Fingers rested his left hand whilst his right hand typed into his mini console.  Ah wmceloe to my new vuntere. Plasee floolw me trouhgh to the sudtio.

Inside the studio, Thomasina’s jaw dropped open. On a rickety table there was a sheet of paper. Fingers typed, dip yuor fniegr in the red ink and samer it all oevr the pgae. Cohp cohp!

Fingers grabbed an instant camera and waited impatiently. He wanted Thomasina’s finger only in the photo.

Thomasina fumed. Fingers literally could have done this job himself. But, Thomasina being Thomasina, she smiled broadly and externally, and posed for the photo. Inside she seethed, plotting her revenge already.