Just an Olde Fashioned Love Song
No matter how many times I pinched my pale flesh with my sickly hands, nothing happened. "Fuck!" I cried. "This is real!" I took a swipe at the clutter on a nearby desk and knocked it to the ground. "I don't fucking believe this! I have to spend the rest of my life as...as..."
My rage subsided when I realized I didn't even know what the hell my name was. I fished though my back pockets, but they were sewn shut. I had to dig through my front pockets to find my wallet- a cheap folding cloth one which was faded along the seams. My name was Bernard Oliver Reginald Evans, and I had seven dollars to my new name.
No, that couldn't be right...surely this guy had a banking account or something! I started upending drawers, probably making ungodly amounts of racket, but at this point I can't say that I care. I found a checkbook amidst my sock drawer, only to discover that the previous Bernie had pulled out three thousand dollars from an account that only had about two-thirty. Dear god, I'd been in my new life for a few minutes, and I was already in debt? Fuck! How dare that guy bounce a check! What was that for, anyway? I scanned through the little index-y list thing, only to find the name Melissa Etheridge next to the latest withdrawl. Well, fuck. The guy bailed out of his body only to leave debt to the new guy.
Furious, I stepped out of my room, down the hallway, and into the parking lot in a haze of pure hatred. I probably would've kept on going, except I almost ran straight into a pole. I took my bearings, and discovered I was at a scholarship hall a good half-mile away from campus, and on the opposite side of the greek life at that. To my horror, I had no idea which car was mine, and dipshit here didn't have keyless entry.
I made an excutive decision to blow a seventh of my life savings on a bus ticket. With luck, whoever was in my body now had joined the rest of the frat on the traditional food-court meal. I was early, but I could afford to wait. After all, I couldn't exactly confront myself in front of the whole gang, now could I?
After blowing a third of my remaining savings on a soft drink, I sat there waiting for my body to come in. After fifteen minutes of sitting there alone like a complete dork, my body walked in accompanied by one of the other guys, Blake. It wasn't ideal, but in all honesty, I was too pissed to care.
"You!" I screeched, hopping off of my stool. "You little fuck! How dare you!"
"Dude, chill. I don't even know who you are," my body said. Damn, the guy was a good liar- completely calm.
"You know exactly who I am!" I yelled, pushing his shoulder in a gesture which would've been more effective had I actually had muscle on my new body.
"Calm down," said Blake, seizing my arm in a tight grip, then releasing it. "He says he doesn't know you. So beat it before I beat you!"
"Fuck off, Blake!" I yelled, flipping him off. "He damn well does know me, he was me for the first eighteen years of his pathetic existance!"
"Dude, it's okay," my body said, holding out his arm to stop Blake from beating the shit out of me. "He's probably some sort of gay hippie with a crush on me."
The two of them laughed as my soul dropped into my stomach. "Yeah, you're right," said Blake. "Remember that time it happened to Foster? Man, that guy was fuckin' creepy! He must've been stalking him for weeks; the douche knew our codes and everything!"
My heart sunk as my body walked away to sit with friends. I did remember Foster. Did this... Man, I defended him, helped beat up the acne-encrusted freak show who wouldn't stop following him! I shared a life with the guy for months, and I never knew the difference!
My rage subsided when I realized I didn't even know what the hell my name was. I fished though my back pockets, but they were sewn shut. I had to dig through my front pockets to find my wallet- a cheap folding cloth one which was faded along the seams. My name was Bernard Oliver Reginald Evans, and I had seven dollars to my new name.
No, that couldn't be right...surely this guy had a banking account or something! I started upending drawers, probably making ungodly amounts of racket, but at this point I can't say that I care. I found a checkbook amidst my sock drawer, only to discover that the previous Bernie had pulled out three thousand dollars from an account that only had about two-thirty. Dear god, I'd been in my new life for a few minutes, and I was already in debt? Fuck! How dare that guy bounce a check! What was that for, anyway? I scanned through the little index-y list thing, only to find the name Melissa Etheridge next to the latest withdrawl. Well, fuck. The guy bailed out of his body only to leave debt to the new guy.
Furious, I stepped out of my room, down the hallway, and into the parking lot in a haze of pure hatred. I probably would've kept on going, except I almost ran straight into a pole. I took my bearings, and discovered I was at a scholarship hall a good half-mile away from campus, and on the opposite side of the greek life at that. To my horror, I had no idea which car was mine, and dipshit here didn't have keyless entry.
I made an excutive decision to blow a seventh of my life savings on a bus ticket. With luck, whoever was in my body now had joined the rest of the frat on the traditional food-court meal. I was early, but I could afford to wait. After all, I couldn't exactly confront myself in front of the whole gang, now could I?
After blowing a third of my remaining savings on a soft drink, I sat there waiting for my body to come in. After fifteen minutes of sitting there alone like a complete dork, my body walked in accompanied by one of the other guys, Blake. It wasn't ideal, but in all honesty, I was too pissed to care.
"You!" I screeched, hopping off of my stool. "You little fuck! How dare you!"
"Dude, chill. I don't even know who you are," my body said. Damn, the guy was a good liar- completely calm.
"You know exactly who I am!" I yelled, pushing his shoulder in a gesture which would've been more effective had I actually had muscle on my new body.
"Calm down," said Blake, seizing my arm in a tight grip, then releasing it. "He says he doesn't know you. So beat it before I beat you!"
"Fuck off, Blake!" I yelled, flipping him off. "He damn well does know me, he was me for the first eighteen years of his pathetic existance!"
"Dude, it's okay," my body said, holding out his arm to stop Blake from beating the shit out of me. "He's probably some sort of gay hippie with a crush on me."
The two of them laughed as my soul dropped into my stomach. "Yeah, you're right," said Blake. "Remember that time it happened to Foster? Man, that guy was fuckin' creepy! He must've been stalking him for weeks; the douche knew our codes and everything!"
My heart sunk as my body walked away to sit with friends. I did remember Foster. Did this... Man, I defended him, helped beat up the acne-encrusted freak show who wouldn't stop following him! I shared a life with the guy for months, and I never knew the difference!
- ID: 44817
- Nickname: shortclimax
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