"Who are you? Why are you puking in my toilet? I'm calling the police!" Bri shrieked. He knelt down and picked up a jagged piece of the coffee mug he had dropped on the floor. My stomach did a 180 and I stuck my head in the bowl again, the bile burning my throat on the way up.
"Stop it! Stop it! That's my toilet!"
Bri was brandishing the chipped piece of ceramic like Zorro but he didn't dare take a step closer. "I'm married! My wife doesn't allow strange girls to puke in my toilet!"
At the sound of the word 'girl' I froze. I had woken up, suddenly feeling sicker and weirder than I had ever felt in my entire life. I had run straight to the toilet. I was pretty sure I would have noticed if a girl had entered the apartment. After making sure I wasn't going to throw up all over myself, I sat back, looking up at him in confusion.
"What girl?"
Maybe it was because the sound of the wretching had played havoc with my hearing before, but as soon as I spoke, I knew something was wrong. The voice that left my mouth was soft, high, and sweet. I coughed.
"What girl?" I repeated. The same voice came out.
"YOU! WHO THE H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS ARE YOU?!" Bri screeched.
It was then that I had the good sense to look down. I screamed.
I had a chest. Not just a pathetic chest like Calista Flockhart. No, I had a chest to rival Becky. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring Bri's continuing wails of fear and stared into the mirror. I screamed again.
The face looking back at me was not my own. Long blonde hair framed a slender face. She had my eyes, but that's where the similarities ended.
"What the fuck's going on?" I screamed. I turned around, my hands braced on the sink. I felt sweaty and gross and...and...
I rushed to the toilet again. I didn't think it was possible I could have any more to throw up, but a bunch of sick acid landed in the water.
"I'm...I'm going to call the cops now," Bri said. By this time he was hovering at the door, ready to bolt. I turned to him, and wiped my mouth...except it wasn't my mouth. The lips were too slender and pouty and...
"Bri, it's Nick. Nick. Something's wrong. Really wrong."
"Nick? NICK?" Bri repeated dumbfounded. "What did you do to Nick!?"
"I am Nick!"
"Nick was on the couch!" Bri turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. "NICK!!!" When no one responded he whirled around again, his nostril's flaring as bad as...
As bad as Nurse Hatchet.
"THAT SHE-DEVIL!" I shrieked. The shriek was so feminine it wasn't funny. It sounded like Becky the one time she saw a mouse.
"What she-devil?" Bri sputtered. "You're a she-devil? Oh Lord, oh Lord, Leigh's going to kill me. I'm pretty sure I can't be around she-devil's."
I got up again and flew towards him. I was appaled to realize I was even shorter than he was. I grabbed his shirt. "No, you idiot! Nurse Hatchet! She turned me into...into..." I reached down and touched a boob. I slid my hand over and grabbed the other. They ached and I pulled my hand away like it was on fire.
"SHE TURNED ME INTO A CHICK!"
I've never been able to help it.
When the girl started grabbing at her breats, I stared at them. My jaw dropped. They were huge... they were squishy... they were SEXY. I swallowed a big mouthful of saliva as she jiggled and wiggled them right there in front of me, shrieking something about Nurse Hatchet. I could no longer hear her, though, not really, not over the breasts.
Lord, forgive me, for I may sin if those things keep flippity-floppity-ing in my face.
I am a married man.
Married.
I spun my ring on my finger.
But... the breasts...
"ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!?" Her voice was so shrill, it snapped into my reverie. I looked up. I nodded. "No you aren't! Oh my God." She turned, her hair whipping around her, the breasts ducking toward the shower, the trance-spell broken, and made a frustrated grunting sound. "I'm going through absolute estrogen-charged hell and you're standing there like a big baffoon..."
I blinked.... and came to my senses. "POLICE! NICK!! CALL THE COPS!! CALL THE FBI! FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, CALL SOMEBODY!!" I bolted into the hallway, away from the She-Devil. I was sprinting. I could feel my heart slamming around in my rib cage.
THUMP!
I hit the carpet and it gave me rug burn up my knees. I was being straddled across the back by the She-Devil. "NIIIIIIIIIIIII IICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed.
"She made me do it," I pictured myself trying to explain the infidelity to Leighanne. "She pinned me down and screwed me before I had a chance to get away... And Nick slept on the couch the entire time."
"I CAN'T HAVE SEX WITH YOU!" I hollored as I struggled to get away.
"GROSS!!!" she yelled.
Okay, now I didn't want to be raped by a woman, but when a guy says no and the woman responds with gross, a guy can't be blamed for wondering why, right? "Gross?" I demanded, "GROSS? Why the hello-kitty is that gross?"
"I ain't havin' sex with no dude," came the response.
I wriggled out of the loosened grip and pointed at the uber-round-protruding pregnant belly. "Well," I said, "You might've wanted that memo a few months ago."
She looked down. "Holy SHIT NUTS! I'm pregnant?"
"You're just realizing this?"
"Brian, I'm telling you," she said, "It's me-- Nick."
"You're a psychotic maniac," I yelled.
"Yeah but I'm also Nick!"
"Nick is on my couch, don't play with me!" I said, "NICK!!!" I added for good measure, "YOU BETTER BE CALLING THE COPS!"
She rolled her eyes, "You aren't listening to me, why won't you listen to me?" She was suddenly near tears.
"Because you're talking crazy talk!" I answered.
The tears were now rolling down her face. "I'm not crazy, I'm telling the truth. Why are you being so mean to me?"
I can't stand it when women cry. I felt that hollow weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I inched closer. "I'm sorry," I said, "Don't cry, okay? I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that... you're... you aren't Nick."
"NO SHIT SHERLOCK!???" she suddenly wailed, loudly. I jumped backward. "I have boobs!"
Again with the squeezing.
I closed my eyes.
"Yes, yes you do, and they're very - they're nice, but I'm - I'm married, and I can't - I can't look at them."
"I don't WANT YOU looking at my boobs!" she wailed, "I don't even WANT boobs. Well I want boobs but I don't want these boobs. Well not these boobs on my body anyways. I would take'em on another body. Like Becky's body. Oh my God, I'm a lesbian!"
I peeked out the corner of my eye.
"Becky's not a lesbian. What the hell am I gonna do? Now we're gonna have two kids. TWO KIDS. I can't even handle ONE kid... not to mention two. What if Becky doesn't wanna be lesbians?"
I stared at her.
"Briannnnnnn," she wailed, in the most recognizable whiny tone ever, "I don't waaaaaannna be a womaaaaaaan!"
"Ohmilord," I muttered... and promptly passed out.
