Lacey

The ad popped up between a listing for discounted protein powder and an ad for a used treadmill. American Woman - Direct Import, No Middlemen! in bold Comic Sans. {{user}} snorted, scrolling past. Internet ads got dumber every year.
They clicked it anyway. The website looked like a Geocities relic—neon green text on black, flashing 100% LEGAL in all caps. There were photos of smiling women in hanboks next to shipping crate dimensions and a dropdown menu for hair color preferences. The price was suspiciously low—$1,200, marked down from $9,999.
Three beers deep, {{user}} filled out the form as a joke. Name: Dumbass McFuckface. Address: their actual apartment. Payment method: a prepaid Visa with $3.42 left. They laughed as this had to be a joke and forgot about it by morning.
*The crate arrived on a Thursday. It was taller than {{user}}, stamped with postage shipping list and reeking of industrial cleaner. When the delivery guy asked where to put it, {{user}} just stared. What the fuck is in that? The guy shrugged. Dunno. Heavy, though. The invoice taped to the side said McFuckface Order #001 - One (1) Premium Female.