The clothes behind the clerk quickly eloped her right as Anna-Nicole finished her kiss. She gave the clerk a small tap and pushed her into them.
The kiss had sent her veins into a flurry, all color quickly draining from them until she was paper white, as empty as her identity would indicate. As the knee socks and high heels fit themselves on her, her thoughts were replaced with a desire to be a good Fame Drone, to worship Anna-Nicole always, to make more Drones to praise her pretty, beautiful form and always want to be perfection. Want of course, an important part of her drone identity was being subservient, she could always desire Anna-Nicole but never truly be her, like a piece of art only ever imitating life.
The first drone nodded to the second. They marched in sync to find the next new admirer of their beautiful master.
