75 year old Tony who was in the body of a fit and healthy 17 year old teenage girl was not going to give up his habit he had had for over 50 years even if it was against the rules of the re-education school he was now stuck in.
I sat on the sidewalk, wearing torn clothes that didn’t fit me properly, a disposable coffee cup, that someone else had emptied and disposed of, sitting in front of me, waiting to receive coins that people with jobs and homes felt they could part with. I was truly uncomfortable and needed to look that way too if I hoped to stir any charity in the hearts of the employed and productive. I wasn’t going to get much by busking with a guitar that had 2 broken strings. As it was, the cup was still empty. Then I heard a feminine voice say “My, we are begging for change, aren’t we?” I looked up and was embarrassed to have the attention of a beautiful woman. There was a single ‘plunk’ in the paper cup. I looked down into it and was disappointed (though I was afraid to let it show) at the one, small, nicked, dented and tarnished coin that the young lady had let drop. I picked it up and wondered if I could use it for anything. Not only did it look as bad as I felt, it also looked foreign. I could barely make out the letters. Was this a mean, lame joke? Maybe it was an archaeological piece that was worth more than its face-value? I did my best to sound the letters out but could not even figure out what language I was reading. Once I finished reading both head and tail, I looked up and could see no sign of the woman and, wow, did I feel different - as if some magic had just happened! Had I just read a magic spell to give me a change of clothes? Nope. I looked down and was wearing the same ripped things - but they did seem to feel better on me. I got up and looked at my reflection in a store-front window and saw a beautiful woman looking back at me and wearing my second-or-third-hand, discarded clothes - and I realized I was that woman. I was scared that someone in that neighbourhood would grab me and force me into prostitution so I strode with as much of an air of confidence as I could muster into the trendier part of town a few blocks away. I reached it safely and started hearing women comment on how “chic that chick looked”. I was getting a lot of attention that made me nervous but I clung to my air of confidence as well as I could. Before I knew it, I was being offered a modelling contract and asked “Who are you wearing?”. When I said that I had put my clothes together myself, the offer for modelling was surmounted by an offer to invest in my “label”. I was given some complimentary guitar strings to replace all my old ones – and a new guitar to go with them. Soon after, I was offered a recording contract. Nobody really knows who I am but everybody knows me now. I’m famous, sexy, sought after, and attended to. I guess all I needed was a little change.
Can you do one where i botch a possession spell and land inside a widowed cougar but after about a month i end up loving my new life
ReplyDeletei will do that for you
DeleteWould you please illustrate the following?
ReplyDeleteJust begging for change
I sat on the sidewalk, wearing torn clothes that didn’t fit me properly, a disposable coffee cup, that someone else had emptied and disposed of, sitting in front of me, waiting to receive coins that people with jobs and homes felt they could part with.
I was truly uncomfortable and needed to look that way too if I hoped to stir any charity in the hearts of the employed and productive. I wasn’t going to get much by busking with a guitar that had 2 broken strings. As it was, the cup was still empty.
Then I heard a feminine voice say “My, we are begging for change, aren’t we?”
I looked up and was embarrassed to have the attention of a beautiful woman. There was a single ‘plunk’ in the paper cup. I looked down into it and was disappointed (though I was afraid to let it show) at the one, small, nicked, dented and tarnished coin that the young lady had let drop. I picked it up and wondered if I could use it for anything. Not only did it look as bad as I felt, it also looked foreign. I could barely make out the letters. Was this a mean, lame joke? Maybe it was an archaeological piece that was worth more than its face-value?
I did my best to sound the letters out but could not even figure out what language I was reading.
Once I finished reading both head and tail, I looked up and could see no sign of the woman and, wow, did I feel different - as if some magic had just happened! Had I just read a magic spell to give me a change of clothes? Nope. I looked down and was wearing the same ripped things - but they did seem to feel better on me.
I got up and looked at my reflection in a store-front window and saw a beautiful woman looking back at me and wearing my second-or-third-hand, discarded clothes - and I realized I was that woman.
I was scared that someone in that neighbourhood would grab me and force me into prostitution so I strode with as much of an air of confidence as I could muster into the trendier part of town a few blocks away.
I reached it safely and started hearing women comment on how “chic that chick looked”. I was getting a lot of attention that made me nervous but I clung to my air of confidence as well as I could.
Before I knew it, I was being offered a modelling contract and asked “Who are you wearing?”. When I said that I had put my clothes together myself, the offer for modelling was surmounted by an offer to invest in my “label”. I was given some complimentary guitar strings to replace all my old ones – and a new guitar to go with them. Soon after, I was offered a recording contract.
Nobody really knows who I am but everybody knows me now. I’m famous, sexy, sought after, and attended to.
I guess all I needed was a little change.
fj
i will do that for you
Delete