|Ms Mehall's Magical Mishaps
Author: Alice Rocker PM
You know how my Mom is a witch, and how some times her magic…um…doesn’t work quite right? Especially when it comes to cooking? Yes, well, this will be a story-thing where I tell you guys all about my Mom’s “Magical Mishaps.”Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Chapters: 5 - Words: 11,621 - Reviews: 12 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 02-11-12 - Published: 04-10-11 - id: 2906458
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"What do we do for four hours?" I asked, inspecting my hand.
Terrence shrugged, bending over the DVD case. I wanted to tell him to pull his, or rather, my shirt down, but I didn't want to make it any more awkward than it already was. "Harry Potter marathon?"
"No, I want to watch Disney movies," I groaned, letting my head fall back onto the couch.
"Why? To make sexual jokes about the things that are supposed to be the most innocent, wishing that Mr. Disney was still alive to whip them into shape?" he asked.
"That's your thing."
"Shut. Up. Terrence."
He tossed a movie over his shoulder, hitting me on my arm. "Ow," I grumbled picking it up to look at it. "Remember, you're me now. You can't be a perverted boy. And I told you, I want to watch Disney movies."
"I'm not perverted. I am snarky. There's a difference," he turned to face me. I couldn't get over the whole seeing myself thing. Did my nose really look like that full-on? Jeez. "And that is a Disney movie."
"Pirates of the Caribbean? Please-I-" I glanced at the case. My mouth fell open. "You're right. We need Walt Disney back."
"Great, so we can watch it?" Terrence looked eager. He clasped his hands.
I shrugged. "Whatever. You just want to ogle Johnny Depp."
"So? I'm a girl now. Might as well do it while I can," he plopped down next to me.
"You're not really a girl," I pointed out.
He shot me a look and squirmed a little. "We'll see."
"What?" I demanded.
"I fear I have to go to the bathroom," he sighed. "Damn your body."
"Hey! Like I'm having a fun time," I looked down at myself. It was so weird being in a guy's body. I couldn't even describe it. I couldn't look at my thighs without feeling uncomfortable.
"I get it," he grinned and leaned on my shoulder, looking up at me from under his eyelashes. My head was on leaning on my shoulder. Something is wrong with that picture. "Poor Tori. I told you not to-"
"It was an accident!" I sighed, looking away and shoving my own body off myself. My cheeks were burning. "I mean I just-"
"Let's not talk about it," he suggested. "But seriously, unless you want that to happen again, don't t-"
"I GET IT," my cheeks were about to burst into flame. "DROP IT."
Terrence burst out laughing. I whacked his shoulder or my shoulder. Crap. I was going to have to injure myself to get back at him. Curse my ability to bruise easily. Actually, it was less of an ability and more of a…well…um…un-ability. Right…
"Hey, if you don't watch a movie, you could always work on that social studies project that's due in three days," he pointed out.
Argh. Curse you social studies teachers of America and your qualifications to assign projects that have to do with creepy old guys! CURSE YOU ALL! Okay, maybe not. I'm sure that there are perfectly normal social studies teachers out there. Mr. Palaponi was not one of them.
I could practically hear my Mom's voice in the back of my head though. I could probably use this free day to my advantage.
I sighed and pulled my half-finished poster board over from its drying place. "I suppose," I said. If only I could convince Terrence that, now that he was in my body, he had to finish the project. Sadly, there was not a good chance of that happening any time soon. I glanced around. "Have you seen my glue stick?"
"Oh, just a second," then he went to dig in his pocket. "Oh wait! Crap. You're me now. You have my clothes."
"I'm well aware of that concept," I said, crossing my arms across my chest. My flat, flat chest that I still wasn't used to nor probably would ever be. Darn Mother and her early bloomer genes.
"Well, look in your pocket then," he motioned me forward.
Right. I'd probably notice if I had a glue stick in my pocket. But, I humored him. I dug around and suddenly. "Huh?" I pulled out a glue stick. "I don't even…what…I-what don't you carry around in your pockets?"
"Fire wood," Terrence held up a finger. "Or controversial topics. I keep those inside my head." He winked and observed the nail polish I had put on about a week ago.
I uncapped the glue stick and picked up a picture of Benjamin Franklin. Ben. Prepare to be glue stick-ed.
"Can I take this off? The chips are bugging me," he asked.
"It's only been on a week!" I pointed out.
"What? I'll paint them again," he insisted.
"Do as you wish, but don't paint them black or I'll have to kill you," I said calmly, pressing Benjamin Franklin's face down with my thumb.
"You know what the weirdest thing about this is?" he asked.
I looked up, interested, because I really couldn't think of a thing that exactly stood out among the rest. "What?"
"Hearing your voice, seeing your own face like you're looking in a mirror," Terrence said, picking at the nail polish.
"Yeah," I said, then made my, or rather Terrence's voice go really low. "Now my voice is very low."
He laughed. "Right," he sighed, then grinned. "At least now…" He batted his eyes at me. "I have your pretty eyes."
I was about to say something back when the doorbell rang. I looked at Terrence in confusion. Who could that possibly be? It was a school day for God's sake!
We both got up and shuffled over to the door. I tripped about half way there over Snowflake who leapt three feet in the air and attempted to attach himself to my arm. I managed to dodge him. Terrence was looking at me in a way that said, "Don't you dare screw up my body."
"Who could it be?" I asked, as we approached the door, I peered through the window on one side and was surprised to see a familiar face.
"Isn't it a school day?" Terrence demanded. The doorbell rang again and again and again.
I shrugged. We had no choice but to open it. I was pretty sure she'd already seen our face. I pulled the door open. "Cassie, what are you doing here?" I asked my human friend who was looking even more hyper than usual.
She however just gave me a weird look. That's when I remembered that I was Terrence. And Terrence was me crap. I nudged him.
"Oh, yeah, what are you doing here?" Terry asked, catching on.
"I should ask you the same thing!" she cackled. "I heard you weren't in school today from the girls. What's up?"
"Oh, I…threw up this morning," the sad thing was, it wasn't a lie.
"Ew, are you sick?" she laughed, eyes bright.
"Not exactly, but you know the whole 24 hours thing," Terry shrugged.
She turned to me. "What about you? Are you sick?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "I threw up a little while later."
"Ew that sucks, but guess what?" she asked.
"What?" Terrence looked a little scared.
Her face split into a huge smile as she continued to literally bounce on her heels, her brown ringlets flying all over. "I had an orthodontist appointment today and I guess I'm supposed to 'take it easy' or something, but I figured, woo! Day off! So, I thought we could go shopping! What do you say?" she tossed her hands up. "
Uh-oh. "Well actually-"
"You don't mind, do you Terrence?" she turned to me. This wasn't good. I just had to say something didn't I? This was bad. He couldn't go shopping with her. She would know he wasn't me! I wasn't sure there was anything we could do about it though. Unless, I came up with something good. Oh! Idea!
"Well, actually we have to-"
"Great!" she grabbed Terrence by the arm and hauled him out the door. He looked shocked and confused. I gave him a "just go with it" look and he pretended to cry. "See you later!"
And with that, she slammed the door in my face. I usually loved how bold Cassie was, but, at the moment, it wasn't helping.
There was nothing we could do though. It was done. Oh well. Terrence could fake it, right? Until I figured out what to do? Probably. I trusted him.
Now…Thomas Jefferson, meet Benjamin Franklin.
I absolutely hated bras. I had never wanted to deal with them, and never would, for many different reasons. I actually hadn't had much of an opinion of them until I had been forced into one. Why would I have to? I was a gay guy. Not my problem, out of my zone, over my head, thank you, goodbye.
But seriously. I hated them officially. The strap kept freaking twisting and slipping off my shoulder and the tag was uncomfortable and apparently showing bra straps over a sleeveless dress was tacky. Or so said Tori's insane friend.
First, she dragged me all over the mall just to find the perfect cookie, then she had drug me around again, looking for Coke Zero not Diet Coke, then back again to finally look at clothes. Honestly, yes, I was the type of gay guy to enjoy shopping, but I wasn't used to looking for women's clothes and I certainly hadn't memorized all of Tori's sizes. Cassie just walked through the aisles talking non-stop, grabbing stuff for her and stuff for Tori's body and then dumping it all on me and kicking me into the dressing room.
"Try it on!" she demanded from the other side of the door.
"I am not trying on this stripper dress!" I called back out staring at the monstrosity on the hanger in front of me. "It looks like something Miley Cirus or Ke$ha would wear!"
"It's not a stripper dress!" she insisted. "It'll make you look hot!"
"If I put that thing on, I'll be showing more cleavage than Christina Aguilera! I do not want to look like a slut," I hissed through the door.
"Please?" she begged. "Why not? I swear, if you do this, I won't force you into anything else the rest of the day!"
Since when did an orthodontist appointment entitle an entire day off anyways? Whatever. The offer was tempting. In fact, it might actually be worth it. I sighed and caved, leaning against the door on my forearm. "Fine," I grumbled. "Swear?"
"Yes! Gosh, Tori. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" she asked, sounding worried.
"Just tired," I grumbled and felt the leather of the dress. It looked terrible. It was going to squeeze me in places I was never meant to be squeezed. Stupid skank dress. "Okay, just give me a minute." Or ten. And a tub of butter.
"Take your bra off first!" she seemed to have no qualms over yelling personal information to the world.
I winced. Not again… "Why?" I whined.
"Because! It'll ruin the whole effect! I'll go get some tights!" she announced, leaving no room for argument and ran off.
Ugh…oh God, if Tori could see me now. I was going to have to kill her. Gosh, or Ms. Mehall…or Sam-MOVING ON.
Damn. I pulled off my jeans and my shirt and took the lack of dress off the hanger. This, was not going to be a fun time.
I had finished my social studies project and was pondering what to do next. I wasn't exactly sure that I could just show up at the mall randomly and pull him away from Cassie unless I wanted to start a cat fight and cause Cassie to hate Terrence forever. Or at least for a few days.
One problem was, I had Terrence's phone. And he had my phone. Which was completely dead. I would know. I had texted Virgil way later than I probably should have last night. I didn't have a way to contact Terry, or him, me. Or Virgil, me. I hoped he wasn't too worried.
However, Terrence's phone was going crazy. I was seriously tempted to chuck it down the basement stairs if I didn't know that Terrence would kill me if I did. Sam was seriously obsessive. I had no idea what he was doing. Wasn't he in class? Seriously?
It was driving me insane. I had an urge to type back, Sam. This is Tori. STOP. FREAKING. TEXTING. TERRENCE. Or, I'm seriously thinking of getting a restraining order. Sadly, I was at the mall and on the off chance that school was out (he did go to supernatural school) for some reason and saw me there, not with a phone, but with a bubbly brunette girl, I decided not to do that. Knowing me. And us.
So, instead, I had contented myself with setting a pillow on top of it and perching on the tower. It was like my own personal vibrator chair. Needless to say, I had stopped reading the texts. I didn't know what to do. I was actually kind of bored.
I wondered how Terrence was doing with Cassie. Hopefully, she wasn't being too crazy.
It hurt so bad. Everything basically. The thing was skin tight and was squeezing. Tori wasn't fat at all but it hurt like hell. The thing was leather with rips and tears in awkward places, a plunging neckline and no room to breathe. The skirt was ridiculously short. I couldn't bend over even two centimeter without flashing somebody. It squeezed my thighs, my stomach, my butt, and my recently acquired "assets." (Insert gay guy rebuttal here.)
Of course, Cassie brought fishnets for me to put on under it. I wanted to die. I was so much more exposed than I ever wanted to be in public. I wanted to put on the biggest, most oversized sweatshirt I could find and a pair of sweatpants. And this was me talking.
"Come out!" Cassie called, banging on the door.
I already did, I thought. But not as a drag queen. "No way!" I shouted back.
"You promised!" she banged harder. "I bet you look great!"
"I promised nothing! I just said I'd try it on! I didn't say I'd show you!" I had never felt more self-conscious in my entire life and I wasn't even in my body.
"I'll crawl under the door!" she threatened.
"Fine!" I screamed, throwing the door open. "Happy?" I spread my arms out and turned in a 360.
Her mouth fell open.
"Happy?" I demanded, palms still toward the ceiling.
"Wow, you look…" she still had her mouth open. Like I was about to die from suffocation? Absolutely. She held something out. "I got you shoes." Of course you did.
I was about to pull my hair out. When would this torture end? I grabbed the black, 6-inch wedge heels and dropped down on my butt to put them on. Why not? After all, I was just a slightly short Barbie doll.
"There," I untwisted the strap of the left shoe. I pulled my knees up to my chest and looked up at her. "Satisfied?"
She was observing me with curiosity, rubbing her chin and raising an eyebrow. I felt like crying. "Yes! That's it! Do the sad, innocent face! It makes no sense with the outfit, making it perfect!" she grinned hugely, making a rectangle shape with her fingers and pretending to snap a picture of me.
That was the final straw. I loved Tori, but her friend was driving me out of my mind. I was not forced to do this. I was a citizen of the United States of America and I had rights! Girl's body or boy's body. I stood, and brushed myself off. I wasn't going to take this crap from this chick I barely knew anymore, no matter what I looked like from the outside.
I frowned and advanced on her. She stumbled back, looking a little surprised. I pointed my finger in her face, shot some choice words at her, and stomped out of the store. I didn't exactly care when the security alarms place on either side of the door went off.
I about broke my ankle trying to strut indignantly off in those heels. I had to give Genevieve credit, it was harder than it looked. I ignored the sound of people running after me, still caught up in my dramatic exit. That was about when I ran right into someone.
I had been walking right towards a large crowd of mall-traffic so it wasn't a huge shock, especially since I hadn't been watching where I was going. I stumbled back, almost falling over. "Sorry," I muttered.
"Tori?" the voice came from the guy I had run into. I looked up in shock. I knew that voice.
I looked into the wide green eyes of the guy who'd spoken. Behind me, Cassie was running up, about 20 feet in front of the store employee who'd also chased us out. "Tori! If you wanted that so badly I would have just paid for it!" the excitable girl called.
I forced a smile. "Oh," I tried to act casual. "Hey Virgil." Then I did an extremely stereotypical, if not slightly annoying "hey, girl, hey" kind of wave.
Insert particularly nasty swear word here.
The doorbell rang. Why was the doorbell ringing? If that was Casper, playing a trick with his friend, I was seriously going to haul off and punch him. Then again, he was a ghost. And I was an idiot.
At least Terrence's phone had stopped buzzing. FINALLY. Thank you, Higher Power!
They would just go away. The doorbell rang again though. I groaned. "I'm coming!" I shouted, though they couldn't hear me. I stomped over to the door and flung it open. "What?"
"Hey Terry," Sam grinned. "What's up?"
Eyes wide, I didn't say a thing. How was I supposed to respond to that? How did Terry usually speak to Sam? Flirtatiously or sarcastically? A mix? I couldn't remember. "Uh," I stalled. "I…uh…"
How did I know this would happen?
A/N: Huzzah! These chapters are so awkward to write…hopefully you liked it though. ^^ I figure all of you knew this was going to happen, at some point. Review please!