Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other Psych-Os like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T

Spoilers: Totally AU and completely ridiculous. I should be ashamed of myself even for writing it, but I'm not, so there. Too heinously complex for a one-shot, but I tried.

A/N: Another B-Day present-to-self. I've toyed with the body-swap cliché in my head for quite a while, and only time and Loafer's marvelous "contrived" one-shot series convinced me to go for it for real. I set it as though it were a movie-homage episode like "Tuesday the 17th" or "The Head the Tail the Whole Damn Episode," but actually I've never seen Freaky Friday (any version of it), though I did once long ago see the same concept with, if I recall correctly (I don't care to take the time to IMDB it) Dan Ackroyd and Eddie Murphy, though I don't remember what the title might have been (I don't even know if that's correct, so it must not have made much of an impression on me). In any event, the concept of the curse that causes two feuding people to swap places is as old as storytelling, I believe, and generally as hackneyed as it comes. Be that as it may, I personally would pay cash money to see Tim Omundson playing Shawn Spencer-as-Carlton Lassiter and James Roday playing Carlton Lassiter-as-Shawn Spencer, and I suspect both would be damned good at it. For those in the know the Orb of Agamotto is actually a tool of Marvel Comics' Doctor Strange, so this could be construed as a crossover if you want to get nit-picky about it. I made this portion in the hopes that it would feel like the teaser opener before the title credits and theme song, so imagine The Friendly Indians at the end when it says TBC.

Freaky Thursday

"And so, to further boost the draw of the supposed accursed object," Shawn concluded dramatically, and waved the thing in the air over his head heedless of its fragility and its purported value of three million U.S. dollars, "you stole the Orb of Alma Matso yourself, intending to milk the publicity as long as possible before secretly and mysteriously returning the Orb to its rightful display here at the museum."

Museum director David Thurman snarled in Shawn's direction as his wrists were cuffed behind his back. "It's the Orb of Agamotto, you ludicrous miscreant, and it isn't accursed, it's mystical."

"You're a ludicrous miscreant, you ludicrous miscreant!" Shawn shouted as the man was led away. Detective Carlton Lassiter, arms folded tightly across his chest and a skeptical brow cocked his direction - as always - took a couple of steps closer to where the fake psychic stood on the dais of the museum's presentation area.

"That was unnecessarily time-consuming, Spencer, as usual," Lassiter growled. "You could have sent it in an email. Thurman was just a wackadoo who wanted a publicity boost for his failing museum, for crying out loud, he wasn't Professor Moriarty."

"Oh, Lassie, you'll never appreciate the artistry of the Big Reveal," Shawn said, not unfondly, although he knew full well and counted on the fact that the mild affection in his tone often rankled the older detective more than his most acerbic witticisms. "Let's have a look at this thing, shall we? See what all the fuss is about."

One characteristic the two men shared was curiosity, though Lassiter typically hid his better. Despite his animosity toward the psychic he stepped onto the dais to look at the orb he held, which appeared to be nothing more or less than a simple glass sphere and utterly worthless, albeit somewhat pretty. "You know, this thing feels kind of funny," Shawn said. "It's not wet or greasy but it kind of feels like it is."

Tentatively, Lassiter reached out and touched the orb. The moment his finger came into contact with it, the whole character of the thing changed. Amazed, the men watched in stunned silence as a cloud of colored smoke filled its interior and resolved itself somehow into words, floating ethereally not in the orb but in their brains.

Though bitter rivals never choose,

They'll soon walk in each other's shoes.

The world gave a sickening lurch, and suddenly Shawn Spencer's sense of physical perspective changed radically. He was suddenly standing in the opposite direction, and he was seeing the world from several inches higher than before, as if he'd risen to tiptoes unawares. The character of his body had changed, as well, leaving him feeling oddly unstrung as he lost the increasingly stocky bulk he'd begun to carry as he matured physically.

"Now I know how string cheese feels when you leave it on a car seat on a hot day," he mused aloud, and was only moderately surprised to hear his words emerge in Lassiter's gruffer voice.

"What in the blue bloody blazes - ?" his own high warble sounded from a mouth he wasn't controlling. It was Shawn Spencer's hand that dropped the valuable artifact in its shock, but though it was Carlton Lassiter's larger, longer-fingered hand that rescued it, it was Shawn Spencer's consciousness controlling that hand. Unbelievable as it was, Shawn Spencer and Carlton Lassiter were walking in each other's shoes.

"Big-ass shoes," Shawn muttered under Lassiter's breath, regarding the size 12-narrow at the far distant end of one impossibly long leg. This…was either going to be really fun, or really, really horrific. It did occur to him, peripherally, that most likely it would be a bit of both.

To Be Continued…