Remotely Controlled 4
by Otaru_grower
Last time, on Remotely Controlled…
Garrett, our main narrator, is a rambunctious and very cleanly gay man nearing 30 who works at a bank. His two best friends are Samantha and Stuart, who with him chance upon a device that is capable of seemingly anything in terms of changing either someone’s appearance or outlook, found at the yard sale to end all yard sales. After all three struggle respectively with an anti gay boss at the bank, a retail bitch manager, and an alcoholic/abusive restaurant manager, all bosses from hell, the three have reached their boiling point. Meanwhile, Samantha has also befriended the boy next door, Steven, who for all intents and purposes has a horrible father and who Samantha suspects to be neglected at the least. Also, Sam must contend with her boss’ frat boy son and his lewd advances. Garrett’s boss has recently told him of his plans not to promote a coworker based on his orientation, and is actively looking to sell his grandfather’s war medals. Garrett has taken the plunge and changed Stuart to be ten pounds heavier and an inch greater in height, going against the agreed upon pact not to change each other without express permission, and secretly thinks that his friend could use a little more confidence. And now, we return.
* * *
Waking up, I knew what I was going to do. In the kitchen, the door was open and a breeze was coming in, the curtains blowing with soft bouts of wind. I wish Sam and Stuart would attend to things with a little bit more of the obsessive compulsive behavior I exhibit. I mean, it’s nice to be clean. Don’t look at me that way.
Stuart was up and walking around. He looked a little bit healthier. A bit taller. Quite frankly I didn’t care. I did what I did and wasn’t going to apologize for it.
“Oh my God, I am so glad I have today off,” Stuart said, getting some orange juice.
“Yeah, that bitch was a total…I could do something to her.”
“No, don’t. I’m just gonna look all over town for another job.” Stuart said, his voice drenched in his usual Queer as Folk meets Valley girl accent. Stuart was stuck so far in a job that treated him like garbage for no reason. I was still angry over the day before, after witnessing the absolute slapfest that could have been if I had stayed longer.
“Okay. Well, hey, did you leave the remote somewhere? I need it for uh, something.”
“Oh my God, I think Sam had it on her way out.”
“Crap,” I grumbled, and dialed her up.
“Hello?”
“I need the remote today. Do you think you could swing by the bank office later?”
“Uh, sure. This isn’t a good time,” she said, and I heard some yelling in the background. “Gotta go, sweetie. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” Sam hung up.
MEANWHILE, JOINING SAM OVER AT FLANNANNIGANS…
“Samantha!!”
“Yes?”
“I told you to make this place spit spot. Look at this!” Mr. Mooney picked up a spatula. “This hasn’t been cleaned!”
“That’s because Joanne is still using it.”
“I don’t want to hear your flimsy excuses! What kind of worker are you! You were late for work today!”
“I was early by five minutes!”
“And look at the lip on you. In my day, I could just as easily give you what for, but now with all the laws that mean women can sue everyone. You women with your uppity lawyers!” Mr. Mooney belched, and scratched his fat belly. “Now I gotta give you another double shift tonight.”
“But Mr. Mooneeeeey,” Sam whined.
“Don’t Mr. Mooney me, you little whore.”
“What did you just call me?” Sam retorted.
Suddenly, Mr. Mooney’s frat boy son Jeb stormed in the room. “Yo, Sam!”
“Oh God.”
“Yo, can you like, make me and my friends a plate of cheese fries? With some ranch dressing? And like, put them on some pancakes??”
“Samantha, we’ve got a bunch of truckers coming in, you need to hustle hon,” Stella the waitress said, popping into the kitchen.
“Samantha, have you seen the corn oil?” the portly Joanne asked.
“Samantha!” Mr. Mooney said. “You are insubordinate!”
“Dude, she’s totally hot. That’s why she’s gonna go to my fraternity party, huh Sam?”
“What? You’re not dating MY son, you little gold digging hussy!”
Suddenly a loud chorus filled the room, just as Sam slipped something out from under her apron. Samantha screamed at the top of her lungs.
“EVERYBODY SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!” Samantha raged, and covered everyone in a glowing blue light, as they froze still.
“Oh, yeah. It’s on, bitches. You want a piece of Sam? She will give you a WORLD of pain. I have a GAY RAY, and you are going to see the FULL power of it FIRSTHAND!” Zap! An array of choices filled her holoscreen. “Hmm. Let’s see, you are now flamingly homosexual, you love your workers, and they in turn will take their own tips thank you. Hey, and lay off the booze. From now on,” she said configuring. “You don’t drink because it makes you talk about how cute you think N’Sync is.” She noted down about her middle aged, sweaty fat boss.
“And as for you, frat boy. Hmm. Making you a nerd? Too easy. Oh, I know.” She looked for options and made Jeb into a clean cut boy that only wore shirts and ties and was ever so polite to women, mainly because he was secretly flamingly gay. His interests now included opera, BBC dramatic series, and helping the environment. Samantha gave him a slight lisp, and got rid of his shaggy hair. He was let’s see, definitely a bottom, she thought, inputting the appropriate instructions. There were so many wonderful options here,” she thought. She also decided to make him skinner and less buff. “You are now on the chess league, the honor roll, and sports interest you about as much as pussy. Oh, and you’ll decide to stop “pretending” with that fraternity and put up an ad on craigslist to live with gay friendly students, particularly ones that do volunteer work. The more liberal the better!”
“Now, as for you,” she said to the fat blonde middle aged waitress. “I always liked you. I know, I’ll take off a hundred pounds. You’re welcome!” Sam make all of their memories accept the changes with an awareness factor of MINIMAL for Jeb and NONE for the rest.
“Now, who loves me more?” she said, and unfroze them.
“Oh my god, I just realized that the doilies in the bathrooms haven’t been changed!” Mr. Mooney gushed. “Samantha, could you be a dear and whip up this order for our guests? You are adorable. Oh, I’m so proud I could just cry. Oh hoo hoo, well look at me go on, you all have lives. Toodles!” Mr. Mooney left in a wispy walk, and he sauntered out the swinging door.
“Sam?” said Jeb. “I…feel like something strange just happened. Sort of like déjà vu or something. Only different.”
“Oh,” she said, noting that Jeb was now wearing glasses, wore a nice blue dress shirt and striped tie, and looked like he worked at a library. “You don’t look any different to me.”
“Thanks,” he said, his voice noticeably changed. Whereas before it was crass, it was now slightly effete and very concise. “I just have so much to do lately, I think the pressure’s gotten to me. I’ve got to find a new place to live. The guys are just so…messy and straight. You know how it is,” he sighed. “I guess I’m just lonely.”
“What you need is a boyfriend,” she said.
“You’re right!” Jeb agreed. “Gosh Sam, you are just such a good friend.”
“I am a good friend! I am!” she agreed happily with a hand on her hip, admiring her work.
Two hours later she got off of work because Mr. Mooney was in such a good mood and she promised to be back in time to help him redecorate. She passed a bunch of street punks. One of them stepped in front of her and wouldn’t let her pass.
“Yo bitch, why don’t you give me your wallet?” the youth asked.
“I don’t think you want to mess with me, LITTLE boy.” Sam smiled. Two of the other gangly teenagers walked over with menacing scowls, one white, one black, and one Hispanic. It was a rainbow of annoying! With a zap zap here and a zap zap there, she turned to find them all attentively glaring at her with their skateboards.
“Now, after you finish going back to school and apologizing for skipping classes, you are going to volunteer for the Obama campaign, you can pass out flyers, make phone calls, now doesn’t all that sound like fun, kids?” The young men all happily agreed. “Now go out there and make me proud! Go on. Shoo.” They skated away, happy to make a difference in the world. Sam beamed. “I am doing so much good today,” she said, congratulating herself.
“Garrett, you are not going to believe how awesome I am,” Sam gushed.
“Uh, yeah. Need the remote. Gimme,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Glad to see you, too.”
“No time. Work now. Bye bye.”
“Hi, Sam! Oh wow, I love your hair today!”
“Oh thanks, Preston. I get it done at this little place down over at-“
“Whoa! What’s everyone doing with the chatter convention over here?” Brent said, announcing his presence loudly. Brent is the head of accounting and loans and also my boss. I like to describe him as “special”. “Preston, aren’t you done with that paperwork I gave you?”
“Oh, um…sorry, I’ll just go do that.” Preston said, waving goodbye. Preston was thin as a reed and always wore vests. He was one of those gay men that saw Madonna as more important than anything in the Old Testament and read magazines about cross stitching and wine and teddy bears.
“Sorry you had to see that.”
“See what?”
“Oh, you know,” Brent said, doing a motion with both his hands “the fairy who can’t keep his toes on the ground, ‘cause Tinker Bell’s got so much pixie dust, amiright Garrett?” Sam and I both winced horribly and Sam mouthed the word “fuckface” to me so that Brent couldn’t see.
“Okay, well I just came to say really briefly that I’ll be making a big dinner tonight so call if you’re going to be late. We’re having Italian.”
“You know, Sam, maybe you and I could have dinner sometime,” Brent said.
“Uh…aren’t you married?”
“Um, well, yes. But…let’s face it. I mean, you’re really hot and my wife wouldn’t mind if we just, you know, hung out.”
“I would, but I just found out I have a horrible skin rash. That I picked up from…some Malaysian fruit.” Sam turned to me. “Have a fun day!”
“OH I intend to!”
After she left, Brent told me “In my office. We got to talk.”
“Yes, I believe we do,” I replied.
Brent looked like your typical college football jock 8 years out of college. Coasting was more than a phrase, it was an entire lifestyle. His trophies lined part of his office, which was in totally bad taste. A potted plant? Yes. Those things? And pictures of jets, god this was going to be a breeze.
“Garrett the Ferret,” Brent said, using his nickname for me. “Have a seat. So, as you know these are tough times and our loans aren’t getting paid any faster. That’s why I’ve made the decision that you’re going to have to fudge some numbers.”
“What??”
“Real estate loans. We kind of made an oopsy. I might have…told some people that they should lie about their incomes, everyone was doing it but I also lied about some fake names and set up a sort of Cayman Islands thing.”
“You embezzled money from the bank?” My jaw dropped and my voice sounded hushed and awed. Was he INSANE?
“Yeah, I can see you’re impressed. That’s why you’re my main dude around here. Look, I’m gonna need you to stick with me on this one. The upper management guys get wind of this and I’m outta here, and you with me. I sort of used your name on some papers.”
“What do you mean…you…isn’t that identity theft?”
“Yeah but they’d never believe that even if I told them.”
“You could try!” I said brightly.
“Yeah but then I’d have to confess. And you wouldn’t get a share of the moolah. How does five mil sound?”
“Uh…well, how does promoting Preston sound? I mean, he does more work than anyone here. Me included.”
“Garrett, this is no time for jokes, but you always do know how to crack me up.” Brent laughed. “Seriously, though dude, I got it all figured out. There’s a bank account with your name and I basically have the money channeling through some fake account numbers, it gets routed because the bank thinks you are an outside owner of some property. You get the “rent” and the fake people I invented basically pay interest on their “loans” to the bank but it’s only on paper.”
“Wouldn’t they catch that when reports go in?”
“Yeah I figured a way around that. See they aren’t losing money if they don’t know about it, so basically money is going out but the way it gets reported they would never know about it. I can’t go into the exact details because it’s a marketing scheme my old Enron buddy cooked up.”
“Wait a minute. You’re taking tips from someone that used to work for Enron.”
“Yeah before that he did this sort of thing for years, and the banks he worked for never got wise to it. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Freeze, sucka!” I pulled out my remote and a blue light bathed Brent. “This is the best blue ray feature ever,” I said. “Now, Brent.” I changed his personality to accept whatever I told him. “You are going to stop these shenanigans. Cut it cold turkey. End all the loans for the fake people. Stop collecting money from the bank. Find a way to give most of the money back through a charity fund or something in the bank’s name. Take my name off of EVERYTHING. Don’t sell your grandpa’s war medals, I’m sure he’d want you to keep those and you now have sentimental attachment to them. You are going to file for a divorce and cut off your wife. Because you. Are. Now. GAY!!!! SO gay, Brent. Gayer than a Miami cocktail. Gayer than gay because you LOVE to take it up the ass. You love it so much and you crave it every day. You go to websites and look it up every chance you get. No one knows and you’ve always kept it to yourself. And it kills you when you see gay men getting it on because secretly you WISH it was you. You’ve salivated over every slice of gay life you’ve been able to see from the sidelines and years and years have gone by of you wanting it more than anything but never having it. And you just dream of pleasuring another guy, of cleaning his cock clean and gargling his juices.” The phone rang.
“Brent Smith’s office, how may I help you?” I answered. “Oh he just went out to lunch. Uh huh. I can have him fax that to you. Sure. Buh bye,” I hung up. “Okay, nowwhere were we? Oh yeah. You have suppressed your INTENSE homosexual desires for so long that you’ve built up a number of fetishes. You love the S&M but you’re not totally into the torture thing, that’s just a step too far. You loooove being dominated, though. You also love it when guys are ultra masculine. You love it when they take control, but you’re always going to use condoms because after all, safety first! And oh yes, and about the wife. She’ll take the kids because they’re hers anyway and annoying and spoiled so you won’t be broken up over it. You won’t push visitation rights. You’ll thank me for that. And it’s not like she’s a total milf, she can pretty much milf herself up another dreamboat in no time. What else? Oh, yes…”
I rushed over to Preston’s desk. “Boss needs to see you. Right now. Urgent. Can’t wait.” I ran back, making sure no one was looking and no one was, because they were all older women doing filing and phone work. Preston followed with a worried expression. When we got inside he gaped in shock. “Freeze!” I summed him up, as he stood there statuesque. Preston always had good looks. Let’s just tweak things up slightly. I opened the door and used some controls and seconds later the entire building was frozen. Now, no one would interrupt us. I decided that Preston was going to be much more…masculine in appearance. The first thing I did was get rid of the vest, and all his other clothes. He was my height, average 5’9”. I upgraded that to 6’4”. Preston grew right over me, his body becoming thin and frail. I upgraded his weight to a whopping 250 pounds, with 4% body fat. Preston filled out slowly. I gaped. His shoulders and traps expanded. His biceps and triceps became tougher and tougher until he had filled out to military status. He looked like a Marine now. He looked like a god. But, a really white and pasty god. I filled in the color a little bit by making him slightly more tan. I gave him a hairier face, rougher and a stronger chin. I made his voice drop by an octave. I made his hair slicker and oiled back. I gave him a few habits. He smoked now, here and there, and when he didn’t do that he gnawed on a toothpick. I ran my hands around the chest, which was of perfect contours. Not too strained with muscle, but it had that nice drop to the pec that I just had to savor the moment. Medium amount of chest hair. I looked up into Preston’s eyes and thought how much I wanted him to enjoy this moment. I saved all of his new manly features. Standing before me, Preston looked like he could be a professional athlete. He was an alpha male all the way. I upped his levels for persuasive ability and confidence by a few bars. Lastly, under awareness, I input TOTAL. I put Brent’s expensive clothing and power suit and tie on Preston, and I have to say, it looked much better on him. I do love my work. I felt him up a little bit more. Just to make sure all this was real.
“And now for you,” I said darkly, looking at Brent. I was now looking at Brent, who sat naked and well endowed, given all of life’s gifts, without accepting them humbly or meekly. Well, he was about to be given meekness anyway. I nearly stroked myself as I brought his weight down by ten pounds, then another, and another. He got thinner and thinner. I shortened his height to 5’7”, which was where Preston once stood. I mean, there was no reason to be cruel or anything. Besides, I couldn’t take off more or he wouldn’t fit into Preston’s clothes. I could get the remote to change them but I wasn’t in the mood to find out how. I was impatient and drunk with power.
Which, I might add, when you’re feeling for the first time, is really fun! I recommend it and if you should happen to ever get a magic remote control, it is fabulous. You must try. And now back to the story.
I gave him smoother skin and younger features. He looked more college aged now. I gave him a higher voice. I made him 145 pounds. My god, I hardly recognized him. It was the exact same face, only…it was sort of like looking at Brent’s younger brother. “I think I shall call him…Mini Brent” I said, biting my pinky and doing my best Evil impression. Hey, you make your fun and I make mine.
Finally, I put Preston’s clothing on Brent. It was like playing dress up. As a god. I was Zeus and he was but the clay I molded to make men. Too much? Yeah, okay, I’ll tone it a bit. Sorry. I just get carried away sometimes. Shut up. I am not going overboard.
So Brent sat there, looking oh so pretty in his little sissy lavender vest. I told Brent to have no memory of his sports conquests, and took the trophies out of the room and stuffed them in the trunk of my car and then came back. He had always led a ‘mediocre’ life just enjoying sports but never really being enough of a jock to compete. In fact he had always been afraid of his boner sticking up all the time, so he avoided locker rooms in school at all costs. The last false memory code was a personality quirk I input that said that Brent practically worshipped the ground I walked on. I found it in a “hero worship” area. I do so love you, remote control from an unknown dead scientist. Finally, I unfroze Preston.
“I mean, he’s just sitting there with that weird glow and-“ He gaped. “Why is everything smaller? He looked down. Gasped. Touched his chest. Gasped. Moved his hands all over his suit and butt and body, gasping and gaping. Then he saw Brent. “I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming. My voice!” He moved his hands over his face, amazed by his new stubble and chin.
“Welcome to the new you? Wanna see yourself in a mirror?” I jumped up and down excitedly and opened the door. Preston looked around in a panic then rushed outside as if he expected a camera crew. “Come on!” We ran down a hall and into the bathroom.
“Oh! I can’t believe it! How is this possible?” Brent strode forward, in awe of his massive size. His chest heaved and he wasn’t used to that. He stared at his image. “Are you…are you an angel?”
Okay, so I sort of considered saying yes to this. Now you know.
“Um…no. Well…no. Look, I just discovered a way to do things that by all means is considered impossible.” I told Preston the whole long story, as he stared in shock and then paced back and forth in the bathroom, listening to my story and interspersed this with looking at his image close up, and then went into a stall to check out another thing I gave him.”
“OH WOW!” He rushed out and zipped up. “Garrett,” he said looking scared. “You didn’t change me inside. I mean, I’m still the same little wimpy me on the inside.” He began to make pouting noises.
“Hey! Look at me,” I told him. “That asshole was never going to promote you based on the fact that you’re gay. This remote was divine intervention. I was going to quit soon anyway and you…you should have everything that you deserve in life.”
“How do I ever thank you?”
“Well, I do have a plan on how to get you promoted…” I said, and Preston made lots of goofy smiles and reacted with disbelief. “This is too good to be true!” he said. “I look totally different and I look so…”
“Good? Manly? Like you always wanted to feel?”
“Well, kinda. I mean, I tried to gain weight. Hey, you got rid of my lisp.”
“Well, yeah. You can have it back if you want, but it’s more of a turn on if you sound straight, plus I thought it would just be a fun change.”
“Well…okay. I mean, I don’t sound gay and I guess that’s okay. But if I want it back then-“
“Then I’ll have you sounding homo in no time, buddy.”
Preston looked down (way down) at me. “Thanks, Garrett. But…don’t you want to make yourself big and muscular, too?”
“Enh, I always got by on my club looks.” The truth was I looked like a cherubic mix between a very young version of the main character from Full Monty and Dennis Leary, minus all the wrinkles and crags…okay I don’t look like Dennis Leary so much. The point is I have similar hair and I’m hot, so deal with it. “I just don’t feel the need right now,” I said.
Standing with Preston by my side, I enacted the device to the control function for the perception of the entire building to the changes I made to be none, under “TOTAL ACCEPTANCE OF ALL CHANGES/ AWARENESS NONE”. And that included Brent, who as far as he was concerned was always a little runt who looked up into Preston’s big eyes and jock looks. Preston stopped me. ‘Hey, I really want everyone to just call me by my middle name. It’s Tom. I just, I feel more like a Tom.”
“For you? Anything, buddy. Everyone will call you Tom from now on!” I unfroze everyone. Preston and I looked around. Women bustled to and fro and a few said hello as they passed us in the hall. No one gave any indication they noticed. Preston rolled his shoulders nervously and adjusted his tie. “SHALL we?”
“After you,” he said graciously, and opened the door for me into Brent’s office.
“Oh, hi there guys!” Brent stood up. He looked so young and innocent. He looked more like the temp that came in, fresh faced and freckled. He didn’t look a day over 22. “So uh, how can I help you?”
“Oh, we’re just here to tell you that when the bigwigs from upper management visit, we’re going to be there for you.”
“Yeah,” said Preston, or Tom, rather sinisterly. Well to me it was sinister. To Brent, he just seemed enraptured. “In fact, I’d like to help you work out some strategy plans for that. Why don’t you come by my place this weekend and we’ll work something out?”
“Sweet!” Brent replied, clinging on Tom’s voice. “I like what I’m hearin’ here. Cool, fellas.” Brent tapped a pencil. “Now uh, if you’ll excuse me I have to correct some paperwork that I uh…did in the past.”
“Oh well, we’ll just leave you to that, then.” I said.
“I’ll be catching you later, man,” Tom said, laying a hand on his boss’ shoulder and rubbing firmly.
“Good! Okay! Right!” Brent bumped into his desk. “Ow. I’m okay. You guys have a good day.”
“Hey, boss, can I have the rest of the day off? I have some really important business to attend to. I don’t normally ask but…”
“Huh? Oh, sure Garrett. I mean, you’re my number one uh…guy. I’m sure that whatever you have to do it’s important. Do you need any help, man?”
“Oh no, I got it perfectly under control.”
Hours later I was in front of Brent’s house. I figured the least I could do was do an errand on the way home. I rung the bell and Mrs. Milf answered the door, wearing something pink and loose. Her kids had just gotten home, which was convenient. I prompted her to dissuade her parents from ever setting eyes on Brent again, and told her she had always suspected her husband, with his gentle looks, to be gay. She had come to the decision to remove herself from the equation. She would move the kids to another state to live with the grandparents and financial matters would be settled later. And she would not be surprised at all by Brent’s appearance when he got home. Oh, I almost forgot!
I fiddled around with the remote and almost missed it but finally found a clothes changing device. As it turns out, odd as it sounds, the remote could change little in the way of inanimate objects, with the exception of clothing. So I changed all of Brent’s clothes in size and some in style. He opted for softer pastels and though I didn’t take all of his expensive stuff away, I did keep a few of his shirts and shoes and ties for future Christmas presents.
What? I never said I actually WAS an angel. Don’t judge me. Anyway.
I made it home safe and sound, feeling better than I had in years. Sam was cooking a wonderful ravioli dish with balsalmic and olive oil. I paid for groceries and she made them into wonderful art. Say whatever you will, that is a damn fine arrangement for free rent.
“So, how did everyone’s day go?” she beamed.
“Really good! Can you pass the garlic bread?”
“Sure, and here. I made arugula salad with coriander honey dressing.”
“Oh my god, this is amazing.”
“Thank you. I just feel so much better that I get compliments at home and work alike. Stuart, how did your day go?”
“I’m like, so exhausted! But I think I might have some good leads. I talked with this totally nice woman at Macy’s and she said they weren’t hiring, but she did know someone who was looking for a manager trainee. She said I’d be perfect. We talked a LOT about fashion and she said I really knew my stuff. This is yummy!”
Now it was my turn to beam. “Stuart, I am so proud of you! And you didn’t even need help from the remote! I really am proud of you.” I clapped him on the back.
“Yeah, well, you sort of inspired me. I mean, my job just doesn’t appreciate me! Totally. I feel way better now. I might have an interview by next Friday.”
After finishing up dinner, Stuart and Sam relaxed on the couch and I excused myself to my bedroom. Throwing myself on the bed, I counted all of the delirious wished I’d granted that day. Mostly to myself, but not just for me. This was amazing. Nothing could destroy my happy feeling.
Suddenly, there was a ripple effect in the corner of my eye. Getting up out of concern, it got bigger before me. Dark smoke appeared on either side and there was a teleporting effect, like in the beginning of an Outer Limits theme. A man materialized before me, wearing a shiny red leather top, and fishnet stockings, with a matching red purse and heels. He was an older guy, maybe sixty, and definitely overweight. I should have been scared, but was past the limit of being surprised. Or at least overwhelmingly surprised.
“You the guy that’s got my remote?”
“Uhhhhhhhhhhh” My eyes darted back and forth without a witty retort.
“Hey, sparkles, I don’t got much time here,” he spoke in a New Jersey accent. “Where’s the remote? You got it? It’s safe?”
“Well, I guess you could possibly say that I have it, ARE YOU AN ALIEN??” At this point I might have panicked just a cinch.
“Nah. You talked to that ditzy broad from the garage sale. Yeah, I’ze heard ya. My name is Professor Xanadu. I made the thing,” he said.
“Oh. Well, it’s lovely to meet you.”
“Can it. I don’t got much time. You gotta get my Tesla coil back.”
“Uh…why?”
“It’s got Tesla inside of it.”
“Oh. Does that mean?”
“Yeah, I’m a ghost. How’d ya figure it out?”
“I’m just really observational.”
“Okay, twinkle toes. I don’t have much time. The remote has got to go back to its rightful owners by the end of the month. There’ll be a meetin’ time and everything. Tesla is another matter. He got trapped in the thing before I croaked. Meant to let him out and I was sort of bein’ a jackass. So where is it?”
“I think it’s at the local community college.”
“Swell. Hey, look, just find out where it is, and you can let him out there.”
“And, how do I do that, Mr. Special Effects Ghost Guy”
“You know, you got a mouth on you. Anyone ever tell you that? Look, just read my journal, it’s the fourth one I wrote, it’s in maroon leather. Oh. My feather boa is itchy as fuck.” The ghost ruffled his feather boa.
“So you were a crossdresser and now you’re in heaven. So what’s it like?”
“Complicated. I look like this to you cause that’s how I died.”
“You died wearing that?”
“Fuck you, you’re a homo with a fetish for-“
“Hey, whoa whoa. There’s no need to bring that little thing up.”
“Whatevah. Find Tesla. Let him out.”
“Sorry about the thing I said, I don’t have anything wrong with the elderly exploring gender roles.”
“Yeah, you’ze a good kid. Just do like I says. I’ll give ya instructions for the landin’ later this month, then you’ze can rendezvous and give em’ back the remote. Bye bye.” The ghost’s transmission, or whatever the hell it was, fizzled out. I was left all alone again.
Wait a minute. What the hell did he mean ‘landing’? That didn’t exactly leave me feeling comforted. For a brilliant scientist ghost, he wasn’t that smart when it came to filling me in. Who did he think he was, anyway? It was my remote, and I could do whatever I wanted with it. So…there. And what was he going to do? Ghost punch me? Ha! Let him try!
But then I thought about it, and realized you don’t fuck with drag queens, of any age, alive OR dead. Those girls will TEAR your SHIT UP.
Inside the living room, my pals were asleep. Stuart had been neglecting his own apartment to come over every night and I didn’t mind. He was so peaceful. A thought entered my head. What if I could help him for the interview?
I got out the remote control and added an additional ten pounds to him and an additional two inches. He was now taller than me and he had a little big of muscle showing underneath his shirt. Not too much, just enough to be noticeable. I thought of changing his personality, but it was Stuart. I loved him too much to ever change him like that. He and Sam dozed in each other’s arms. If I didn’t know he was a complete homo, I might have mistook them for a couple.
I went back to bed with sweet thoughts in my head and plans for the future. What could possibly go wrong? I mean, it’s not like I’m some kind of monster.