A Short Story by Jennifer Pierce Gaeta
Chapter 1
The Strangest Neighbor Ever!
Patrick had never been happy when the house next to his went up for sale. He was going to miss his drinking buddy Phil, and he prayed for someone interesting, and preferably male to move in once the house sold. Mrs. Johnson didn’t care either way as long as they didn’t disturb her husband or children.
“Patrick, did you take out the garbage yet?”
“Garbage? What is this thing you call garbage woman?” Patrick joked as he hefted the bag and walked to the garbage cans set in his backyard. The kids had left their toys everywhere, and he was hard pressed not to trip over the rubble of their play. Reaching the garbage can in relative safety, Patrick closed the lid and turned to head back inside when he heard voices on the other side of the fence.
“I am glad you love the house, Ms. Yelland. Will it just be you and your daughter then?”
“Yes, just me and my baby girl. I am ever so proud of her, she just recently graduated with a Master in Literary Arts and Library Science.”
“She sounds brilliant, you must be gushing at her achievements.”
“I am, with the new library that just opened it gives her a great opportunity to ply her craft. It’s one of the reasons I want this house.”
“Only one of the reasons?”
“There might be others, but my baby girl needs this, and so do I. Shall we complete the paperwork, Miss Pepper?”
The voices faded, and Patrick fumed. No new drinking buddy for him. He had prayed for a guy and gotten a gal. Damn! Maybe she would like beers, wading through his toy-filled backyard Patrick went inside to tell Mrs. Johnson the news.
“Babe, I think the house next to us just sold.”
“How do you know?” She asked as she cleaned baby boy’s breakfast from his face. He giggled at the cloth she used squealing, “Momma, tickles!” His boyish laughter filled the room.
“I heard the realtor lady Miss Pepper talking with her client. They said something about completing the paperwork.”
“How nice.” Mrs. Johnson said as she ushered the kids towards the car. They needed to get going if they wanted to be on time.
“Have a good day at work honey, I will see you around dinner time.” She said as she left the house. Patrick sat at the kitchen table drinking his coffee, wondering if he should go introduce himself to the new neighbor. She sounded like a nice lady, and it would save him the trouble of doing it later with the wife and kids in tow. Grabbing a fresh cup of joe, he headed out his front door and towards the neighboring house. His head down watching the pavement for errant toys, Patrick makes it out of his yard safely. As he closed the gate, he turned around quickly, running smack into a cute little blonde woman who screamed, danced and hissed like he had kicked her cat.
“Don’t you watch where you are going? My blouse is ruined, and my chest is on fire! How hot was that coffee?” the woman shrieked as she used her fingers to pry the wet blouse from her chest. Patrick stood gaping in embarrassment.
“I am sorry I didn’t see you there. I am Patrick, your new neighbor.” He said with a half smile hoping the lady didn’t kill him on the spot for ruining her blouse.
“Can you make yourself useful and get me a towel at least?” she asked with annoyance filling her voice.
“No can do, the wife has them all in the wash, would a shop towel work.” He asked, hoping that the look in Rebecca’s eyes would not kill him. The daggers she was shooting from them were fierce.
“Just get me something please.” Rebecca pleaded. Her voice sweet and gentle even if her eyes said kill. With a nod, Partick headed back inside and towards the garage where his work van resided when not in use. Grabbing the first towel he saw, he gave it a shake and deemed it clean enough to do the job. He jogged back out the front door and tripped over baby boy’s bicycle. He hit the ground with a slap near the gate and offered the towel weakly from the ground.
Rebecca chuckled, “Are you okay, Patrick?” She asked with an eyebrow raised high.
“Yup, I just need a minute to measure the height of my lawn.”
Rebecca wiped furiously at her blouse, till she noticed the sawdust that was quickly attaching itself to the white fabric of her blouse.
“Is this some type of sick joke,”
“Umm…no,” Patrick replied puzzled.
“You will regret this sir,” Rebecca said as she stormed off towards her home.
Puzzled at everything that had just occurred, Patrick got himself off the ground and headed into the house. That little idea had not been one of his best. Hopefully, Mrs. Johnson can patch it up later with baby boy in tow. With his handsome little face, he could win all the ladies over. Getting himself a fresh cup of coffee, he locked up his house and headed towards his work van.
He had two floors to put in today. One in the mansion two blocks away, that monster was an eyesore if he ever saw one, but work was work, and it paid the bills. The second home was a little further out in the next own over. It was a small den and the purgo flooring they wanted just snapped together once he had it cut to the specifications of the room. It was an easy job, and he looked forward to it. As he approached the stop light, he felt a tingle across his skin; it tickled like the furry of a bunny did when you held it in your arms. Paying the sensation no mind, Patrick continued onto his first job. He had a feeling this was going to be an interesting day.
Chapter 2
WTF?
About a block away from his first job, the tickling sensation began to intensify, into an itching sensation. As he pulled up to the last stop light, he would hit before turning down his client’s street, Patrick looked down at his arms.
What the fuck is this?” He mumbled to himself as he ran one pawed hand over the white fur that had grown all over his arms. His nose began to twitch strangely, and Patrick began to panic. How was he supposed to lay a floor with what looked to be bunny paws? How did he even get bunny paws? Worried it was more than just his arms, Patrick pulled down the visor to look in the van’s vanity mirror. What he saw there made his ears stand up, and his nose twitch uncontrollably. He looked like the freaking Easter Bunny, complete with the yellow polka dotted vest and bowtie. His ears sank around his bunny face. How was he ever going to get back to normal in a one block drive?
Frustrated, he tapped his bunny feet against the floorboard and tried hard to think of a reason to reschedule his jobs for the day. A group of kids pulled up next to the van. The girls awed, and the boys laughed as they asked if he was the “Cadbury Bunny Bach Bach!” Mrs. Johnson was going to kill him when she saw this mess. He would be surprised if she didn’t make hasenpfeffer out of him for this debacle. With a strange craving for carrots and a want to ask, “What’s up doc?” Patrick started the van.
The tingling sensation hit him again, and he prayed it would change him back. He didn’t want to be a rabbit, nor did he really like carrots. Glancing down at his arms, Patrick gave a sigh of relief; he had normal man hands again. He just had to hope that his new werebunny persona stayed hidden long enough for him to complete the work for his client. Shifting the van into drive, Patrick sped to his job and made it with five minutes to spare.
Chapter 3
Rebecca
Rebecca glanced around her new little home, happy to have something permanent even if her neighbor was a clumsy ass. Rebecca walked through her new home glad the movers had finally left. They had been there all morning, placing furniture and putting things together for her. At this point, any sound would be better than the sound of power tools. She walked back to the Master bedroom and sat down at her computer. Glancing at her favorite blouse that was now ruined, did nothing to help her mood.
Powering up her favorite tools, Rebecca hummed her favorite song and set out her needed tools. She took her job as a novelist very seriously and her new neighbor Patrick had already destroyed her mood bright and early this morning. The clumsy fool was about to have a very interesting day.
Rebecca roamed around her computer desk, activating the magic circle she had carved into it ages ago. It was how she made sure no one could take her writing or even read it from behind her shoulder. No one got to see her manuscript before it was finished, but her editor and even she would be denied sometimes. Her circle ready, Rebecca sat down and began to open her word processor when she had an idea.
Combing the web, Rebecca found a picture of Mr. Clumsy blouse runnier from the internet. Rubbing her hands together in glee Rebecca chanted:
“Guide my hands with creative light, grant me workings of the night; for one who has been slighted let the other feel the change to the picture maker’s delight.”
Her plan in motion, Rebecca began to work. She combed the web for the many persona’s she planned for her victim to wear for the day. It was harmless magic but would ensure Mr. Clumsy kept his distance. She found the most adorable picture of the Easter bunny and began her magic. And artfully inserted the picture of Mr. Clumsy she had found on the web and let photoshop do the rest. They didn’t call her the photoshop witch for nothing.
Laughing at Mr. Clumsy Bunnyman, she got up to make herself a cup of coffee. He could stay a bunnyman for a bit longer. She had plans for Patrick.
Chapter 4
On The Job
Patrick arrived at his first job looking like his normal self and contemplating writing his weird bunny transformation into the Sci-Fi novels he writes. Laughing at the absurd thought, he loaded his supplies and tools on the cart before heading for the dining area where he was finishing off the floor. It was made of the finest coated redwood, giving the floor a rich red tone, each piece he had masterfully worked into the floor, kept everything flush and level.
It was one of his favorite floors, and it was coming together faster than a jigsaw puzzle. He laid out the last twenty pieces he needed to lay, and the floor would be finished. It had taken him over two weeks to find all matching redwood pieces that would fit flush together. He began to lay his first piece, glad he had decided to number them. It made laying them in a lot faster. Humming an old motley crew song the words coming back to him like a miracle, Patrick worked at a fast pace. He got to the third or fourth board when his head began to tingle.
Worried he felt for bunny ears and hoped he wasn’t having another episode. His coworker Sam gave him a funny look.
“Patrick, what is with the 80’s rocker vibe man? You look just like Vince Neil of Motley Crue.”
“What? No, I don’t.”
“Trust me, man. Find a mirror, your 80’s hair band fantastic. Don’t let the boss see you dressed like that.” Sam said with a chuckle. Gazing down at his pants, Patrick’s eyes widened at the realizations that he was wearing leather spandex pants and his hair had grown down his back is blond curly waves that smelled of AquaNet. Needing to see his face but scared to look in the mirror, he dashed into the bathroom of the home his crew was working on. Closing the door, he flicked on the light and stood stunned. His brown eyes were now blue, while so of his face remained his, most of it was crafted to look exactly like the lead singer of Motley Crew.
He felt a sudden urge for vodka and to belt a love ballad. This was bad, maybe he could hide in the bathroom till the boss left. He usually cut out at around ten in the morning for other job sites, it was nine thirty now, maybe he could pull this off. No sooner than the thought left his mind, someone knocked on the door of the bathroom. Patrick thought fast and turned on the shower.
“Patrick, are you in there.” His boss called through the door.
With the shower going he decided to give in to his urge to sing a 80’s love ballad and started to belt out Motley Crew’s Without You. He sounded nothing like himself, and the song seemed to make his boss chuckle.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir, just looking for one of my crew.” His boss said through the door again. Patrick decided answering would be bad, so he kept singing the song until it ended and he was sure his boss was gone. Looking in the mirror in the for last time, he began to formulate a plan to climb out of the bathroom window if his ass would fit through that small of a window without breaking it.
He inspected the shower and deemed the window too small as the tingles came back. He glanced down at his clothing, first relieved to see that he was himself again. Turning off the shower, he took a quick leak, washed his hands, and went back to work. He had an hour left before lunch, and he was worried about what he would morph into next.
“I see you got rid of the 80s and upgraded to the 2000s, nice to have you back.”
“Good to be back.”
“How did you manage to do that to yourself, man? Are you some type of wizard or something?” Sam asked with a cheesy grin on his face. Patrick knew that Sam wasn’t very bright, but this was ridiculous. He never thought he would get to use the Harry Potter excuse, but he was going to try it anyway.
“I am a wizard Sam, and I had an old spell backfire in the 80s it crops up every now and again,” Patrick said as nonchalantly as he could.
“Wicked man!” Sam said, nodding his head like an idiot. Patrick went back to work, hoping he could finish this before lunch so he could get to his solo job. It was easier to create his beautiful floors without all the distractions. Plus, he had no idea what he would become next! It was making him want a beer and a burger because this day had been unbelievable.
Pushing through the last hour, Patrick managed to accomplish his task. He took a picture to show Mr. Johnson before he left for his second job. She was going to love this floor. He had yet to impress her with his creations, and he knew this floor would be the one! He hurried to his work van, he had just enough time to grab some lunch and then it was off to lay the purgo flooring for the Smiths.
He found a local McDonald’s and headed for the drive through. It wasn’t the best food, but it would work on the fly. He ordered two cheeseburgers, a large French fry, and a large Coke. As he drove through the drive-thru, the tingles came hard and fast.
Pulling down the visor, Patrick was horrified to see himself look just like Superman, tights and all. It made him itchy, and the tights were riding up in an uncomfortable way. He almost wished he had bunnied out instead. Well, there was nothing he could do so he pulled forward to pay the lady at the window.
“You have two cheeseburgers, a large fry, and a large coke correct sir, I mean Superman. “ The lady at the window said with a giggle.
“It is my lady, I need to fuel up to fight evil.” He said, playing off the sudden morphing into Superman as a joke.
“My hero!” The lady said, laughing even harder now as she waved a hand to signal he needed to pull forward. He let off the break and inched forward to the next window where a kid in a Joker mask handed him his food and asked, “Why so serious?” Patrick grabbed his food and drove away as fast as he could, maybe if he ate the Superman morph would go away, His wife was never going to believe this shit. Patrick didn’t believe this shit! He pulled the van next to the park and ate his food, wondering where this new ability was coming from and how it chose what he turned into next.
Chapter 5
Photoshop Indecision
Rebecca paced her living room as she decided her next move. She had chosen a few good ones, now she just had to decide how to use them. At the moment she was working on finding a big-headed alien to morph her clumsy neighbor into as she let him suffer as Superman for a moment. She always made sure she cast the stocking for the outfit extra tight. As she was pursuing her options, she came upon a wee little leprechaun that she set aside for her next round.
She giggled as she planned to make the leprechaun show up in pieces. It was fun to change the hair first, then the ears and lastly the clothing. It left the person wondering where the transformation would lead them. Giving Patrick back his normal form for a moment, Rebecca saw to making her own lunch. She took out the needed utensils and set the lunch meat on the counter. She would be making a delicious ham sandwich with a side of kettle chips and a nice glass of lemonade before she finished her work with the clumsy neighbor. As she sat in her picture window, she noticed that Mrs. Johnson was coming to visit, in tow, she had the most adorable, apple-cheeked, brown-haired boy Rebecca had ever seen. She almost welcomed the visit for that alone.
Carefully she closed her study so as not to disturb the circle around her computer and headed towards the door.
“Hello Ma’am, I am Mrs, Johnson and this is baby boy. We brought you some treats.” Mrs, Johnson said.
“Yeah, cookies for the lady!” The baby boy said with a big smile.
“Thank you so much. I am Rebecca, it is very nice to meet you. I don’t mean to be rude, but I am on a long distance call and need to get back to it. Can we talk another time?” Rebecca asked. She was in a hurry to finish her photoshop magic before the day came to an end.
“Of course, just pop on over when you're free.” Mrs. Johnson replied with a smile.
“I will, and thank you again. See you soon.” Rebecca said as she closed the door on possible new friends. Photoshop could not be stopped once it was cast. She had to finish this soon. Dashing back to her computer, Rebecca selected her last few images and set to work. Patrick had plenty of time to rest, now he had to morph.
Chapter 6
One Last Project and Then Home
Patrick finished his lunch and got back on the road, every passing car made him angry. As they passed, they would honk and make comments. He had lost track of the dumb shit he heard in the last thirty minutes, it was too retarded for him to repeat. He had another twenty minutes till he would reach the Smith place and he prayed with all he was worth that the current outfit or morph as he thought of it; would go away. He had no idea why all this was happening to him, but he was glad it was Friday. It would mean he could drink this day way after his little dumplings had been put to bed.
Mrs. Johnson might not like it, but he couldn’t make this shit up if he tried. He vaguely wondered if he could, fly and leap tall buildings in a single bound, but he wasn’t about to try. With the luck he had today, he would morph into something else mid-flight. Patrick pulled to the side of the road as he thought of an idea. A picture was worth a thousand words, and he would show Mrs. Johnson what he suffered through this day.
Using the camera on his cell phone, Patrick held up a hand and took a selfie. He felt his body tingle slightly as he took, but at least he would have proof of what he had been seeing in the mirror all day long. He opened the photo album on his phone and went to the recent pictures file. He scrolled down to to the newest picture and sat shocked to find a picture of his plain old self. He looked like a goober holding the hand with his wedding ring on it up as proof.
Frustrated Patrick threw the van into drive and sped down the highway. If he drove a little faster, he should make up for the time his brilliant selfie idea had cost him. He arrived at the Smiths home with bells on literally. The tingles cames in a slightly different type of sensation just as he was getting ready to exit the van. He checked the mirror scoffing at the white hair and green hat that had appeared. The bells, however, were something he didn’t and could not believe, even if each step he took sent them ringing like an elf.
Patrick knocked on the door to the Smiths and was greeted by a puzzled, Mr. Smith.
“Hi, can I help you?”
“The name be Patrick Johnson lad, I’m ‘ere ta fix yer flooring.” Patrick drawled out in a thick Irish accent. Mr. Smith began to chuckle but led Patrick to the room where he would be laying the new flooring.
“The Mrs. And I will be leaving for a few hours as she doesn’t want to listen to all the banging. Will you be alright by yourself?” Mr. Smith said looking down on Patrick who seemed to shrink by the moment, his clothes turning a bright shade of emerald green.
“I’ll be fine lad, off wit ya’ now,” Patrick said. He was so going to lose any referrals from this couple. With a sigh, Patrick headed back towards the van to get his cart. The steps seemed bigger, and the van further away. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt very Irish at the moment. He craved Irish whiskey and felt like dancing a jig. He clicked his heels together as he finally reached the van. There was just one problem.
In some perverted universe, Patrick had shrunk to about three feet tall and couldn’t reach the handle to open the back door. He kicked at the bumper cursing in an Irish brogue that fell from his lips like he had been speaking it all his life. The tingling hit him hard as the Smiths drove away, back to his normal height, Patrick loaded his cart with glue and the snap together flooring. It was two hours of work tops if the room had been prepped like he had instructed.
The Smiths had followed his instructions to the letter, leaving the cart in the hallway Patrick knelt down and began to glue and snap the pieces together. It was slow going because his finger seemed longer than he was used to them being, and his celestial robe kept getting in the way. Wait! What. The. Fuck, was a celestial robe, and how did he get one? Running for a mirror he had seen in the Smiths Hallway, Patrick looked at an alien staring back at him.
He had always wanted to meet different intelligent life forms, not become one. Stomping back to the work area, Patrick forced his long fingers to get the job done, and he had tied back the sleeves of the robe with some string he found lying about in the Smith home. He would make this shitty cheap floor even if he had to morph the whole time. He snapped another board into place and carefully removed the excess glue before moving on.
As he reached back, he could not find the next floorboard. It felt like he had run out, and he knew that was impossible because he had brought more than enough for this project. Looking down at his hands, he noticed his hands had grown very small, and everything seemed bigger. He was guessing the leprechaun form was the one he currently wore, getting to his feet he ambles over to the wood flooring pile and moves it forward by a few feet. This way, he can always reach unless he got turned in to something without personal thoughts or feeling.
He pushed hard through the next forty-five minute to an hour and had the floor layed perfectly. The tingles had been constant throughout his progression, and it would seem they planned to continue while he worked. He would find even ground and prove to Mrs. Johnson that this was the worst day anyone could ever have. He had taken so many pictures on his phone of both alien him and Irish him Mrs. Johnson would have to believe him.
Patrick laid the last piece of flooring in with a loud snap and stood to look at his handiwork. Currently, he was but a wee lad, and the floor looked nice to him. It seemed flat and clean of any excess glue. He took his caution tape out of his bag and put up a sign on the door letting the people know they would have to wait twenty-four hours before they could enter. He hoped they saw it, as he had put it more towards the middle of the door due to his leprechaun stature.
As he pushed the cart along he grew taller again and felt his hair recede. He must have shifted to alien again, maybe he was an alien sent to take over the Earth one floor at a time. With a chuckle, Patrick locked up the Smiths home and loaded his van. He had to hope he didn’t shrink while driving or he could wreck the van. He climbed into the driver’s seat and headed for home.
The trip was made with one bout of tingles that turned him back to himself. Like the sunset ended the day, he hoped his morphing was over. He climbed out of the van kissed Mrs. Johnson in greeting and headed for the shower. Dinner and family time went off with no tingles, and after the last child was sent to bed, the Johnson’s were climbing into bed discussing their day.
Patrick ran through the story and even showed her the pictures he took of the leprechaun and alien dude, yet she laughed and accused him of photoshopping at work. Patrick lay back on the bed frustrated by Mrs. Johnson’s lack of belief though she did love the redwood floor, and he knew she would. He rolled over a bout of tingles taking his prone form. When he turned back towards Mrs. Johnson, she screamed.
“Patrick, is that you?” she screamed tears beginning to pool in her eyes. As Patrick’s need to dance took him, he said, “It’s still me. What do I look like now?”
Mrs. Johnson began to laugh as Patrick shimmed to the left and twirled to the right like a ballerina, “You look like a dancing bigfoot.” She wheezed. The tears that fell from her eyes were in laughter instead of fright as she watched her furry husband in his uncontrollable dance.
“This has been happening all day, ever since I spilled hot coffee on our new neighbor,” Patrick told his wife, which only made her laugh harder. The tingles hit Patrick again, and he faded back to his normal form. His wife laughed even harder when he began to dance again.
Apparently, that part of the Bigfoot urge hadn’t left him. He wiggled for a few minutes more before the tingles released him from the silly dance.
Patrick sat on the bed his wife still laughing and chuckled to himself as his phone gave a ding notifying him that he had an email. Glancing at the clock wondering who would send him a message around the witching hour and why? Opening up his email, Patrick pressed the new email whose subject read “Read me.” It was from someone calling themselves the photoshop witch.
Dearest Patrick, I hope you enjoyed our little outing today. Its lesson is simply to be careful who you spill hot coffee on sir, or you may find yourself a dancing Bigfoot for the rest of your days. Enclosed, you will find a reminder of today’s fun. Please let Mrs. Johnson know that her cookies were marvelous and that her and baby boy are welcome over anytime. You, sir, may come over after you have procured a new blouse to replace the one you ruined. While our fun is at an end, remember we can always begin again if the blouse never arrives.Loves and Hugs,The Photoshop Witch <3
(Disclaimer all characters in this writing are fake an in no way resemble Rebecca Yelland or Patrick Johnson. The names have not been changed as these characters are fake and I made the names up. Mrs. Johnson is also made up and not really married to Patrick, but baby boy is real and growing up in an undisclosed location. I know of no profane arts that can be cast with photoshop, but I heard that the witch is alive and well though she has found other hobbies. These hobbies include the infamous bandits known as the tray gang and making new spells called graphics. Again this all fake and I ummm… made it up!)