Roberto was a stupid little man. He considered himself progressive, when in fact, the only thing progressive about him were the masterfully creative ways in which he showcased his ignorance.
As he drowsily awakened from his malevolently-coerced comatose, he noticed an "Anaesthesia For Dummies" book nefariously residing on his night stand.
Gradually, the logic of her laughter found resonance in his feeble mind, and he began to sort out what had transpired in the sordid twist of events: she had transplanted his puffy pink areolas onto his eyelids!
"Oh no!", he panicked. "What are the boys at my crossfit gym going to think of me now!?"
Her justified laughter was deafening as it reverberated off the crystal chalice she preferred to imbibe her daily horchata fix from.
She had rendered his criticisms moot with two decisive incisions. The precision of her scalpel was deliberate and resolute, and she knew it.
Let it be known, The Dragon Master enjoys the company of such autodidactic women.