In Someone Else's High-heel Shoes
By Danii
Summary: The morning after a horrible blind date, Ash wakes up different.
Distribution: Take it, if you already have something of mine. Otherwise, ask.
Disclaimer: I own NO ONE! ((though I won't object if you give me Ash))
Rating: PG13
Feedback: Please! Pretty please!
Fandom: Evil Dead/Army of Darkness

And now:

My name is Ash, and I am in the doghouse, I thought.

Now, as to who I was in the doghouse with, that would be my WONDERFUL blind date, Andrea, who was at the time giving me the look.

You know which one I'm talking about. It's just slightly below the 'I-kinda-wish-I-was-a-lesbian' glare, and just a bit above the 'you-are-so-not-getting-laid-tonight' glance. It's that look that most chicks reserve for at least the third date. But me, being me, got the honor of seeing it on her halfway through our first date. Brownie points for me.

It was because of that goddamned joke. You know it; the one about Helen Keller? How she can't drive because she's a woman? I'm sure somebody's told it to you at one point, and you can't deny that it's funny, even if you try and stifle your laugh because of some pansy that'll complain. But obviously, Andrea did NOT find it funny at all, and the fact that I did had made her angry with me. And it was just another thing on the list of things that she didn't like about me, that I had done wrong on this date. Like making a couple secretary cracks...and commenting about- Ah, it doesn't matter. Let's just say she couldn't take a joke.

"Damn stuffy feminist..." I muttered beneath my breath, wishing to God that I could murder my cousin without any legal repercussions. Yes, my cousin. He would be the jerk who got me into this mess in the first place. I can still remember the conversation.

"Oh, Ash...you need to get a life..." he'd said as he helped me move into the new apartment I'd gotten since my raise. Hazard pay is a wonderful thing to get. As are 'saving-the-store-from-demons' bonuses...

"Shut up, Alex."

"But you haven't had a date for six months!"

I sighed tiredly. What an ass. Shoulda strangled him when we were kids. Then I would have had infancy as a defense. That, and the fact that he kept on making Cheryl cry by taking her Barbies. Not wanting another headache has got to be considered self-defense, right? "It's called mourning, screwhead..."

"But you don't even know if Linda is dead...she just disappeared, according to the police..." my cousin countered.

"She's dead. Trust me. And I don't feel like dating." I told him.

"But, Ash..." He was practically whining.

"Shut up, Alex."

"But there's this really pretty secretary at work...she's nice, and sweet..."

"I don't give a damn."

He tried another way, with different description. Guess he knew that certain words grab my attention... "Blonde, petite, shapely, and-"

"What?"

"A little weird..."

I felt like smacking him upside the head. "Great. Just what I need. A weird chick. Why are you pushing this, Alex?"

Oh, he looked guilty. That couldn't be good. "Because I already told her you'd meet her at The Wellington tonight at eight?"

Being as we were unpacking, most of my possessions were out in the open. Which included my old Remington and trusty Red. That wasn't a good thing for Alex.

"You did." I knew he was stupid, but...damn.

"Yeah."

I took a deep breath, and then told him, "Fine."

"Fine what?"

"Fine, I'll go."

And that would be what got me into this mess. That would be why I was sitting there, next to a perfectly beautiful woman who obviously hated every part of me, being glared at for laughing at a joke.

"Well, I thought it was funny..." was my defense to her, which earned me another look and a hiss of air.

My mind was telling me to abandon ship at this point. End the date. Finish the damn thing that shoulda never started. Tell her that you're feeling sick. Damn, I hate Alex.

Another look. That was it. "Well...I think I gotta be going now. Busy day at work tomorrow..."

"Oh yeah..." she said in a rather bitchy tone, "You work at S-mart, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Such a high-paying, prestigious position..."

Okay, the sarcasm wasn't dripping from her voice. It was being firehosed at me.

"Yeah." I answered simply, "Do you want me to drive you home?"

He answer was immediate. "No, I'll get a cab..."

I looked over to Tim and Lisa, friends of mine we had found at the club and had decided to eat with, Tim being the one who had gotten me into trouble by telling the joke. They were staring. Which meant I was looking pretty pathetic.

"Please, Andrea. I can drive you home. No need to spend money..."

She glared at me, then wordlessly picked up her purse and began pulling me to the door. I followed (willingly. I am not going to be dragged by a woman, and that is final!) until we exited the club. Then she whipped me around and pushed me into the wall.

"Hey!"

"Look here, Mr. Williams..." she started, her pointed finger so close to me that I wondered if she was about to put it up my nose, "I don't like you."

"Feeling reciprocated."

She glared. "And not only do I not like you, I don't like your attitude."

"In general? Or just about you?" I know, I know. Not the most peaceful words. But I quip when I get upset. Better than breaking her neck, wouldn't you say?

"I think you are a stupid, chauvinistic pig!"

"I am not a pig, madame..." I said with a sneer. A small sneer, but a sneer.

"You treat women horribly. You have no respect for them. You don't understand anything at all about how much stupid jokes like the one your friend told hurt!"

"Sorry?" When in doubt, apologize. Even if you think you're right, just apologize.

"No!" she cried, "Sorry isn't good enough. There are enough of you people around. The world doesn't need another. So I'm going to make sure you get a lesson you'll never forget!"

And with that she stalked off, muttering as she went, turning to glare at me every so often, completely forgetting the fact that we were right next to the pay phones, which she needed to call a cab. I woulda told her that, but she would probably say I was insulting her 'female intellect'. God, all women are crazy. I think it's just a part of them. Not really a learned thing, cause even Sheila (and I'm not talking about when she was possessed...I'm not stupid) was a little nutty at times, so it can't just be something of this age.

"Well," I said to myself, "I'm not going to see her again, (or anyone else from Alex's office, so help me God) so I might as well just get home and go to sleep..." Which sounded like a good plan to me.

So I walked the short distance to my slightly used 1998 Chevy (which, with a little love and care every so often, runs like a dream), made my way home, and went to sleep. I had work tomorrow...

##

I hate alarm clocks.

I truly hate alarm clocks.

Despite the fact that I know I need one to get to work on time, I really hate that stupid trilling tone that wakes me up every morning. So, in general, my method of shutting the damned thing up is to throw it against the wall. I'm a violent person. Sue me. And it's not so bad since I get an employee discount at S-mart.

But this morning, I had a little trouble grabbing the thing. The alarm felt bigger in my hand than it usually did, and for some reason, I was feeling a little weak this morning. I threw it anyway, though, but it didn't even hit the wall. It just bounced on the carpet.

Yawning, I got out of bed, stretching my arms out wide. Then I scratched the back of my neck. There was hair.

"Damn..." I muttered in what sounded to my ears an alto, in opposed to my usual bass, "I gotta get a haircut..."

After this, I made my way sleepily towards the bathroom, stretching and yawning all the way. But as I walked, it felt different. For some reason, I felt unbalanced. As if I had weights added onto my front. And my legs felt a little funny too.

I accounted it to my sleepiness, and continued on my way to the bathroom. I quickly, opened the cabinet and pulled out my toothbrush. But as I did, I noticed something.

My arms looked different. So did my hands.

They looked...smaller. Leaner. More...feminine.

I blinked a couple of times to make sure I wasn't crazy, and then I closed the cabinet door to see my reflection. It was at this point that I got the shock of my life. Worse than the whole sent-back-to-the-1300s. Worse than the whole there-is-an-evil-in-the-woods.

I had breasts. Breasts, and long hair. Breasts, long hair, and a rather pretty face. Breast, long hair, a pretty face (still covered in scars), and a nice figure.

Shit.

I was a woman.

I immediately went looking for a certain part of my anatomy. To my great horror, it was gone. My mind could only think one thing.

I was a woman. I was a frickin' woman.

It was at this point that the world went black.

##

I woke up a few minutes later with a rather bad headache, a chipped sink, and more than a few questions.

The first was if the whole thing was real. Make sure that what I saw wasn't just in the reflection. I haven't had many good experiences with mirrors. In general, they seem to be just as unlucky to me unbroken as broken. In fact, because of this, the mirror in the bathroom was the only one I had in the house. So you could understand my suspicion. However, a few looks down, not to mention a couple of touches (which felt REALLY weird) told me that the mirror wasn't lying to me at all. I really was a woman. And a pretty hot one at that.

At first, my mind sort of went 'ew' at that idea, but it really was the truth. I was built. Then again, I was built as a guy, so why not as a woman? Black hair down to my shoulders, cut in one of those bangy looking things that frame your face; same eyes, smaller nose, sharper chin...but it was still me. A little shorter, a different figure, but still me in stance and mind.
So, on to the second question. How the hell did I become a woman? I mean, I didn't drink much last night, so I can assume that it wasn't some horrible drunken mistake. And besides, it was far too radical a change to be some sort of scientific explanation. So that left me with two possibilities.
Firstly, I could've been hallucinating. It was entirely possible. I mean, while I happen to think of myself as a level headed guy, I have seen things that don't exactly exist before. Then again, at the time, I was kind of in the thrall of the evil dead. And most importantly, there is no good reason for me to be hallucinating about being a woman.
Which left me with the second explanation. Magic. Wiseman-with-book, potions-that-you-have-to-use-after-saying-the-words, awakening-the-army-of-the-dead magic, something I was totally sick of to say the least. Magic has never done me any good, none whatsoever. It killed 6 people, took my girlfriend (and my hand), awoke an entire army of the dead, and nearly drove me crazy. Yeah, I know...it did bring me back to here and now, but it was also the thing that sucked me back into the past. In short, I don't like magic. In fact, I tend to punch any magicians I meet in the face, even the guys with the top hats...but not when the assistant is around.
"So," I said in the alto I would have found pleasant had it not been coming out of my mouth, "You're a woman..."
It was at this point that I looked at the clock.
"AND YOU'RE GONNA BE FRIGGIN' LATE FOR WORK!"
Without even considering what I'd do when I got there, I hurried (with great difficulty) around my apartment, dodging boxes as I struggled to get my clothes on in less then a minute. It was made easier for the most part by my smaller size, however the whole 'breasts' thing had me confused for a little while. How women deal with it everyday is beyond me...But that was quickly remedied, and I was out the door.
I stopped to think around five minutes later as I got out of my car in the parking-lot at S-mart. What the hell was I gonna say when I got in? I mean, I'm not an introspective guy. I wasn't thinking 'dear god, I'm a woman!'...I was thinking 'dear god, I'm a woman, how am I going to explain this!?" That's cause I'm a doer, not a thinker. Always have been. And while it might not have been for the best in some situations (like trying to fudge the last word of an ancient spell because you can't remember it...), being the kind of guy I am is probably what kept me alive during the ordeal a year ago. Shoot first, shoot last, and as I walk around the bodies, wonder if I shoulda asked some questions. It's all good. So, I stick with what works, if you get my meaning.
Anyway, it took me a minute, but I came up with something. I figured I'd tell anyone who asked that I was actually my twin sister, Ashley (god, who knew my pansy-ass name would finally be helpful for once?) who was covering for me today since I was sick. Not much of a story, but the majority of shmucks at S-Mart didn't graduate from high school (I did.), so it might work.
I got out of the car, and tried to fix myself so that I looked more like a woman would look, which was a lot harder to do than you would think. You have to push things up, and flatten things down, and...it's a whole annoying process that I will admit took me a couple of minutes to figure out.
When I finally did, I made my way into the store, hopped behind the register, and signed in using my normal code and card. But as the time in slip was printing out, Frank, who works over in women's shoes, came over.
"Hello, ma'am..." he said, sounding polite in that wanna-go-out-on-a-date way that I was used to using instead of having it used on me, "Can I ask you your name?"
"Ashley" I said gruffly, hoping he'd leave me alone. As a guy, I hated the smug bastard. Being a woman made it no different. Except for maybe the instinct to slap him instead of the usual wish to punch his lights out...
"Ashley..." he said, rolling the name around in his mouth for a minute, "Well, Ashely...you must be new around here, cause this is the first time I've seen you around."
"Yeah."
It was then that he looked at my time in slip, which was still sitting on top of the register. An eyebrow rose.
"You're signing in for Ash..." he said with an odd note to his tone, "Why?"
"Cause I'm covering for him." I told him, a small growl in my voice, "He got really sick, so he asked me to come in and work. Do you have a problem with that?"
He backed up, and I wondered why. I mean, as a woman, I was barely 5 ft. What could be so scary? Then I realized that my finger was itching toward the shotgun I kept at my side 24-7. It's part of my uniform practically...and for good reason. Ever since I came back, occult crap keeps finding me and trying to kill me, and it's deadites 75% of the time (which makes me really wish I'd said the damned words right...). So I keep ready. I'm not paranoid, really...
"No...no..." Frank answered with a nervous yet sly smile, "And does that mean that you'll be taking up his position as resident store...protector?"
I snorted. What an idiot. "Yeah."
"A pretty little thing like you? Fighting off those nasty...what does that asshole call them?"
My finger twitched. How dare he? "Deadites. And I will be taking up his position for...as long as he's sick. And he's not an asshole..."
He held up his hands and chuckled. He wasn't taking me seriously at all, and I know that if I was in my normal body, he wouldn't have dared call me an asshole for fear of me breaking his goddamned neck. What an ass...
"Deadites..." he repeated with a conniving grin. Oh, if I don't get away from this guy, I think I'm going to hurl. Not only was he a jerk, but he was wearing red with green and those ugly loafers, not to-
Okay, where the hell did that come from, I thought.
I was tired of the little verbal games (not to mention the horrible color scheme), so I pushed him back against the counter and told him straight out.
"Look...I have a job to do. That job is to work here, doing whatever the manager tells me to do. Part of that job is to defend the store in place of my brother. No part of my job has to do with dealing with you unless I'm in the women's shoe department, and absolutely no part has to do with dealing with your condescending attitude. If you don't stop giving me that damn smile, I swear to God I will kick your ass like it's never been kicked before, and THEN I will file a harassment suit against your sorry backside. You got that!!"
Ah, I finally get to use the harassment line on someone else instead of having it used on me. Kinda nice, but nowhere near enough to make up for the fact that I was a woman. It was almost enough, though, when he backed up. I smiled when I saw that his smile was gone, replaced by a nervous expression.
"Thank you."
Frank walked away, and began toward his shoe department. I smiled again, and waved jovially. That was kinda fun. Annoying as hell, but fun...
However, what came next was nothing near fun.
It was as I was making my out from behind the register that I heard it. That soundlessness. The wind. That almost imperceptible feeling of evil at the base of my spine that I have learned to dread.
Maybe, I convinced myself at first, it was my weird woman hormones or something. Or maybe women sense things differently, and it was just Frank playing a game. But then I heard the voice of what used to be a man from behind me.
"We are the ones who were and shall be again!"
I turned to face a huge deadite that had at one time been a biker. His face was disfigured, and his eyes were now completely white. Shit. Shit and double shit.
He ripped part of the register counter off. "We will feast upon your souls...."
Quick as a whip despite my changes, I pulled out the Remington. I loaded it. I made sure it was ready.
"Yo, you ugly shithead!" I shouted, pulling his
attention towards me.
He turned, and a leer covered his face.
"We're gonna get you...little girl..."
Oh, he was in for it...
As everyone on the line watched, I put the shotgun up to my shoulder. Usually, I do it one handed, but I was well aware that my body at the moment wouldn't be able to handle the kick with one arm.
"Down, please..." I said politely to the non-possessed customers as I began to pull the trigger on the shotgun. Everyone in the area went dropped to the floor, one older lady going especially fast considering her age. I figured that she shopped here a lot. Experience shows...
Then I pulled the trigger, and the shot went out of my gun and right into the torso of the deadite, but it didn't seem to stop it enough. Quickly, more quickly then I liked, the creature pulled up one of the customers from the ground and bit her on the shoulder.
Great, I thought, a spreader.
"Gotta bring a friend into the fight with little ole' me?" I asked sarcastically, as I reloaded.
The response I got was a growl, followed by another, which told me that the bitten person had just switched from being a innocent customer to one of the evil dead. Love my luck...
I looked up from reloading just in time to see the two of them charge me. Damn, they were too close to-
I did a back flip (which for some reason went perfectly well in this body) and landed on the counter top. Immediately, I began shooting into the monsters, hitting one while the other recovered from a shot. I reloaded quickly, and began again, but these two just didn't want to fall; they were getting too close.
Quickly, I jumped off of the counter top and made my way towards the hardware section of the store. They followed, screaming all the way. Great. It just so happened that this was one of the rare occasions in which a chainsaw was going to be needed. The evil must have been having a good day that day.
You see, when I came back from the past, I was supposed to say the words to ensure that the evil couldn't follow me. However, I kinda forgot the last one. Because of this, some of the evil slipped through into our world and followed me. But only some. Not enough to create an army, or to possess more than one or two people at a time. And for one reason or another, the evil decided to make it's home at my S-mart. Luckily, the bright lights and the sterile feel of the place doesn't let the evil grow, but every once in a while, it acted up...by possessing people, or drawing evil things here. Such as the two werewolves that came in during the "Midnight Madness" sale, or the three psychos who had tried to shoot the place up. And guess who dealt with it?
Anyway, I made my way quickly to the hardware department, thanking the Lord that I hadn't tried high-heel shoes this morning. Not that I had any, but I thanked him all the same, because I could see the trouble the lady deadite was having following me. Dumb evil...shouldn't possess people with inferior footwear...
I think stupid things when I fight.
When I made the last turn into the hardware area, I immediately ran toward the counter where I knew a container of gas (not to mention ole' Red) were sitting, patiently awaiting me.
Using muscles I knew would hurt in the morning, I dove behind the counter and took off my hand attachment. Yes, even as a woman, I had a metal hand. Guess most people just figured it was a new type of jewelry or something...
So...yeah...
I grabbed the chainsaw and shoved it onto my arm, realizing that it was a lot heavier for me now then it was before. But I could lift it, so I could use it. I refilled the damned thing and put the cap on just as the two monstrosities rounded the corner. It took them a minute, but they finally saw me behind the counter.
"We're gonna get you, little girlie..." the former biker said in a voice that sounded more like a distorted chipmunk.
"Join us..." the other hissed through dentures that looked just about to give up.
"We are the things-"
I pulled the cord on the chainsaw and got to hear the delightful buzzing noise I had come to associate with fun and mayhem.
"Get a new script, assholes..." I shouted as I put one hand down and slide over the counter to land right in front of them, "Or shut your undead holes!"
With this, I lunged the chainsaw straight into the biker, shoving the buzzing metal right into his fatty stomach. Like always, he kicked and scratched, which added a few new scars to my collection, but he was unable to do anything as the chainsaw Cuisinart-ed his insides.
Knowing the other would try to attack, I pulled the shotgun out of its holder and quickly pulled it up so I could shoot it. As I expected, she ran for me, and I pulled the trigger as fast as I could.
Her face exploded into little pieces, and her body toppled to the ground. At least, that's what I assumed happened, because I was too busy being knocked to the ground by the shotgun's kick to see anything. Luckily, I fell on top of the biker, and our combined weight made the chainsaw flip up and slice through his head right down the middle. Still, he moved around.
I stood. There, a few feet away, lay the body of the female deadite, her entire head gone. Her body made spasmodic movements while the evil screamed wordlessly. She was done for.
But the biker...I turned to look at him. He was still struggling, trying to get the chainsaw out so he could use it on me. But while it was stopped for the moment, it was thoroughly stuck into his head. Couldn't have done better if I'd been trying. I decided to end this though.
"Little girl, eh?" I asked as I reloaded my shotgun, allowing every bit of hatred and anger fill my voice. Wow, I sounded really bitchy...not that I cared.
"Ughk..." was it's only reply.
"Well, here..." I said, pulling the weapon up to my shoulder. This body definitely couldn't handle the kick, I'd learned, and I didn't need to find out the hard way again. I learn fast. "Have some candy..."
I pulled the trigger and got to watch the rather satisfying display of a deadite's head being blown to kingdom come for the second time today. A smile was on my lips as I blew the smoke from the barrels.
"Hail to the Queen, bastard..." I said as I took in my handiwork. A good job, if I may say so. No casualties, not much damage to the store. Everything was pretty good. Except for two things...
My uniform was completely ruined, and...
"Damn it to hell, I broke a nail!"
I know, I know. That had to be the worse possible thing I could have said. You have no idea the mental anguish I went through when I realized what had come out of my mouth. But the damn nail WAS broken. In fact, it was cracked all the way down the middle, and it hurt like a bitch if I may say so.
Immediately, despite the kinda yucky gunk all over me, I stuck the injured digit into my mouth and began to suck on it to dull the pain. At first, it was really nasty tasting, but eventually, the taste began to fade. I still don't like thinking of what I might have ingested.
But anyway, as the pain from my finger began to dull, I heard a familiar voice. One whose owner I didn't exactly want to see at the moment...at least not like this. And I don't mean 'covered in gunk' like this (that was kinda normal), but 'as a woman'.
"Yo, Unc!"
It was my niece, Lindsey, who worked over in the arts and crafts department three sections down. I figured she must have heard the shots and come to help. Yeah, I know...what is a teenager gonna do to fight the evil dead? Well, I'll have you know that when it comes to fighting the evil here at S-mart, Lindsey is the only back up I trust. At 19, she's a better fighter, and a better shot, then anyone else here, which makes me so glad I convinced Debby (her mother and my sister) to give her karate lessons. Besides, she's family...
She also happens to be the only teenage girl I have any respect for. Not only does she take after her favorite uncle (which would be me...though at this point, I guess I'd be her aunt), but she detests all the really annoying things that most girls around her age seem to go gaga over...like boybands...and Leonardo di Caprio movies...
I turned to face her a moment after I heard her voice, the finger still in my mouth. As I did, my nose got the opportunity to meet Mr. Right Barrel and Mr. Left Barrel face to face.
My...those little black holes look mighty big from this prospective, I thought.
Then my eyes rose from the shotgun barrels to stare into hard hazel eyes set in a determined glare. I heard a click.
Pride swelled in my heart. Just like good ole' Uncle Ash. Paranoid as hell, and ready to make sure she lived to be paranoid tomorrow. I love my niece.
"Just who the hell are you?" she asked from behind the shotgun. Yes, the shotgun. My niece, just like me, carries a shotgun as part of her uniform. In fact, the one she was holding had been a gift from me on her 18th birthday. Don't give me that look! What did you want me to give her, a frickin' Barbie? I give practical gifts, thank you so much...
"Calm down..." I said as I began to pull the barrels out of my face. But she wasn't having any of that, and stopped me by shoving them into me gruffly. It hurt, but I was glad she knew not to trust anyone.
"Calm down?" she asked, her voice sickly sweet as her face twisted into a sneer. Yet her aim never wavered. "I'll calm down when you answer my question. Now...just who the hell are you? Why are you carrying my uncle's Remington? And where the hell is he?"
"Ashley. Cause it's mine. And I'm right here." I answered in a rush, hoping that it would get the black metal out of my face.
Hard eyes blinked with puzzlement but the gun didn't move. Neither did the sneer.
"All right, chick. Just explain what the hell you're talking about, and go slow..."
I smiled straight at her.
"How about if I just show you?" I asked with a mischievous grin. I saw the sneer beginning to turn into a look of confusion, but I didn't completely see the transformation because I was busy ducking and rolling past her legs to appear behind her, my own shotgun aimed at the back of her head as I regained my feet.
She didn't try to turn.
"Uncle Ash?" I heard her ask, surprise and bewilderment in her tone. But no disbelief. That was the great thing about Lindsey. She was paranoid as hell with everyone else, but when it came to family, she was all unswerving loyalty and trust.
"Yeah, kid..." I told her, grabbing her by the shoulder to spin her gently so she could look me in the eye. "It's me."
Once she was facing me, I put down the gun. No anger there. Just confusion. My niece looked me up and down once more before asking, "How?"
I laughed. For the first time that day, I laughed. God, but she was a chip off the old block.
"I don't have the slightest clue..." I told her truthfully with what sounded to me to be a rather tired voice. And rightfully so, I thought.
Her eyebrow rose, straining the small scar that she'd gotten three months ago in a scuffle with a nasty werewolf. "So, what? You just woke up this morning and you were a woman?"
I nodded, unable to say the words aloud. It sounded so stupid when she said it like that. It was like I'd forgotten my uniform, and then claimed that my dog had eaten it.
Anyway, after I nodded, she looked at me once more before she began to crack up. I mean, really crack up. She was rolling on the floor laughing, while I watched, completely not amused. It took her a minute, but finally Lindsey looked up at me from the floor with just the slightest smile on her face before holding her hand up for help up.
Despite my aggravation with her, I pulled her up.
"Thanks for all the help, Linds..." I said, the sarcasm dripping from my words almost as much as the gunk was dripping off of me. Actually, a bit more. The slime had mostly congealed at this point, which was gonna be a major bitch at the dry cleaners.
She looked at me once more and managed to hold in her laughter. "Sorry, but just the idea of you...becoming...oh god..."
I gave her a look.
"Sorry..." Lindsey murmured as she saw my expression, and had the good grace to look ashamed, "It's just that the very idea is hilarious...and the reality is simply..."
She paused.
"I don't think there is a term for what the reality is..."
I sighed. "I think the word 'shitty' works well, actually."
When she heard that, Lindsey immediately stopped kidding around and asked me again if I had any idea what had caused this very strange, radical change.
"I mean, what did you do the night before? Were large amounts of alcohol involved?"
While growls from a female throat are nowhere near as impressive or expressive as those from a male, I think she got the point.
"No booze. I was on a date, actually..."
The eyebrow rose again. "Reeeeeally?"
"Yeah!" I snorted.
"With who?" she asked, all curiosity about my date. Okay, maybe she isn't COMPLETELY adverse to all things teenage-girlish. My niece is a notorious snoop and gossipmonger. Eh...everyone has their faults...
"Some secretary from Alex's office." I told her, only to be treated to wide eyes and another grin. Okay, now it was getting annoying. Then again, I was telling her some pretty wild stuff.
"You actually went out with someone ALEX set you up with?" Lindsey asked, her voice now filled with disbelief. Oh jeez...
I looked down sheepishly, then looked up quickly. "I didn't have a choice!"
I could tell she was holding in another laugh, and I really appreciated that she was holding it back. I didn't think I could take another laugh.
"Okay..." she began, now completely business as she started to pace, "So, you were on a date with a secretary by the name of-"
"Andrea."
"Andrea." She said, carefully walking around the piles of goo my co-workers hadn't gotten to yet. They'd already been good enough to pull the bodies into the back while we were talking. I have nice co-workers. Or at least co-workers with strong stomaches.
"Yeah."
"So, you and Andrea had your date, you drove her home..."
"No."
She looked to me, surprise on her face. "Then what?"
I could feel another sheepish grin starting on my face, and I didn't like it. So, I began to look at my shoes. I examined the crevices, the scuffs, the rubber parts that just went over the-
"Then what?" Lindsey asked again.
"Well, we kinda split at the resturante..." I explained, "I mean, we REALLY didn't hit it off at all. In fact, before she left, she got all ticked off at me. Started threatening me with all sorts of stuff. Said she was gonna-"
Oh my god...I couldn't be that dumb. I wasn't that stupid, was I? Why hadn't I been able to put two and two together? It made a little more sense now. Why she'd been muttering. Why Alex had said she was a little weird. What she'd said about a lesson.
It was times like this that I wish I was an introspective, thinking type.
"Andrea."
Lindsey glanced at me. "Andrea what?"
"Andrea made me a woman..."
"Huh?"
"Andrea is a witch..." I said slowly, fitting the pieces together in my own brain, "And she turned me into a woman to teach me lesson..."
This isn't good, a little voice in my mind said quite clearly.
This is VERY not good.
Then again, it fit the rest of my day. I mean, when you wake up a member of the opposite sex, encounter both violent deadites and stupid sexist co-workers, then nearly get your head blown off by your suspicious niece, you can't really expect the rest of the day to be all sunshine and rainbows (as if I ever did on any day).
But I really didn't want to see Andrea again. What if she flipped out? Turned me into something worse? Like a bug? Or (I shuddered at the thought) a used car salesman... How was I supposed to know how evil she was? It's hard to make character judgments when you've been turned into a woman by the person you're supposed to be judging.
It was then that I felt a tap on my shoulder. Obviously, I had been so deep in my thoughts that I hadn't heard what Lindsey was saying. But when I did, I felt the blood run out of my face.
"She's coming."
She. No. Oh shit. Not her. Oh dear God, not her...not now. In the name of everything good and holy (and evil and solid, if it'll help) please not her. I can't face her like-
"Lindsey!" came that sweet voice from the direction of the Arts and Crafts department. That voice that accompanied footsteps. Footsteps that were quickly making their way toward us.
"Lindsey? Are you all right? Are those things dead?" that musical voice asked as the footsteps came faster, "Did you find your uncle? Is he okay? Ash? Lindsey?"
My niece looked at me, silently asking if I had a plan. Like I ever do. I shrugged, and she gave me a sarcastic raise of the eyebrows, as if to say 'nice job, Unc'.
I smirked right back at her, which made her chuckle softly.
But joking aside, she was coming and I didn't have the least idea as to what to do when she got here. I was unsure about whether or not she would accept the 'twin sister' lie, and I was more than a little worried about letting something slip, because she-
Had just come around the corner, a concerned look on her absolutely gorgeous little face. That face which was surrounded by beautiful blonde hair that seemed almost like a halo in the bright store lights. That face which was right above that perfectly nummy body which was as of right now wrapped fashionably in the uniform of an S-mart assistant manager.
Yes, folks. I can be a bit romantic...even when I'm scared shitless. Maybe not out loud (there was no chance of anything coming out of my mouth for a good while due to the combination of nerves and awe), but I'm not a complete asshole.
Luckily, Lindsey could see I was in no position to talk, so she took the lead.
"Hi, Jenny..." she said jovially, putting away the shotgun she had been holding all during our conversation. I thank God till this day that my niece is a good actress. "What do you need me for?"
Jenny smiled and got a little blushed, which made her look absolutely divine. "Oh nothing. I was just coming to see if As...I mean, I came to see if you were okay..."
My mind screamed at this. She'd almost said my name. She'd almost asked about me first. ME! She really DID care if I was living or dead! Yes! I felt like parading around...I felt like doing a end-zone dance...I felt like-
Oh damn, she was looking at me.
"Hello..." she said, looking at me with a nonplussed, but determined, expression on her cute little face. I don't think Jenny was confused by me so much as the artillery I was carrying, my proximity to the 'battleground', and the goo all over me. "And who are you?"
I gave her a wan smile, then waved politely. "Um..."
"This is my Aunt Ashley..." Lindsey jumped in, saving my ass like a good girl. Damn, but I love my niece. I made a mental note to get her something REALLY nice this Christmas. "She's Ash's...twin sister."
Jenny's green-hazel eyes turned from Lindsey to me and back.
"Really..." the assistant manager said with an odd note to her voice. I couldn't tell if it was suspicion or...something else, and that worried me.
"Yeah, My Aunt Ashley..." Lindsey continued, not sounding the least bit fazed.
"Really..." Jenny repeated again, staring at me strangely. It was the kind of look that would have made me shout for joy...had I been a man. As a woman, it just gave me a sort of sinking feeling in my stomach.
"Come over from..." my niece faltered for a moment, then went on, "New York..."
"Oh..." said the girl of my dreams with a bizarre smile (what, you didn't figure that out yet? Yeesh...), "And...did you do all of this?"
This question was directed at me, and those beautiful eyes which usually made me forget how to breath made me forget how to breath in a bad way. However, I remembered when I felt a burning in my chest and sucked in some air to speak.
"Yes." I said simply, trying my hardest to sound like a woman instead of a man with a woman's voice box, "I did. They attacked me up at the register and they wouldn't go down, so I ran back here to get m-Ash's chainsaw from where he said he kept it."
Jenny nodded thoughtfully, then let her eyes scan over the area where some glop from my fight still remained. Then she turned back to me, a completely different expression on her face.
She squealed with delight and grabbed my arm, then proceeded to pull me into the break room for the hardware section. I, caught completely unawares, was unable to stop her, and she got me all the way to the table back there and sat the both of us down quickly before I could say a word.
"So," she said with barely suppressed delight, "You're Ash's twin sister..."
"Yeah..." I said cautiously, unsure of where she was going with this. I mean, Jenny is a really bright gal. Employee of the Year three years running (a record for our store), Assistant Manager, specializing in Arts and Crafts, and current student at DuBrabant University, where she was studying to become an elementary school teacher. Yes, Jenny was very bright. Which had me fearing that she'd figure out my lie.
"And you grew up with him...know almost everything about him...know what kind of...man...he really is?" she asked with an almost secretive glance.
"Yeah..." I repeated, this time sounding a bit more sure. From what she was saying, she hadn't figured me out yet, so now I could breath the right way again. But where was she going with all of this?
"So..." Jenny whispered slowly, "What's he like? On the inside?"
What? This had me confused. But in a nice way. "Huh?"
"What's he like!" she chuckled, "I mean, he is absolutely gorgeous, and from what Lisa in Stock says, he's one hell of a kisser, but...what's he like?"
I stopped to absorb what she's said. I was gorgeous (no arguing that), I was a good kisser, and she wanted to know what I was like from someone who knew me since I was a kid.
Friends, there are times when your dreams come true. They can come true at any time; during your best times, and often during your worst times. This was a dream come true. It was a dream come true for any guy. Not being a woman of course, but being able to tell a curious girl what you're like INSTEAD of her getting opinions from a bunch of old nags who you dumped that hate your guts. So, I, as a representative of all males everywhere who have waited for this moment, decided to take advantage of it. I'd be MOSTLY honest...
"Well," I began slowly, "He's a bit of an oddball..."
Jenny grinned. "Yeah, we all know that..."
"But," I continued, "he's got a good heart. Ash is a guy who's been through a lot of crap, and it's left it's mark on him permanently. Yet, he's still a normal guy in a lot of ways. He likes to watch the game on Sunday, he likes to do an honest days work for his pay, and he would like to find that special someone to take the place of-"
"Linda..." Jenny supplied, a wetness in her eyes as she said the name. You see, before the entire incident with the Cabin, Linda and Jenny were good friends. They would go shopping, watch movies...you know, stuff like that. So when Linda died, Jenny had been almost as upset as I was.
"Yeah..." I said, unable to keep the pain from my own voice. I know, I know...I'm supposed to be this tough guy with the heart of steel, but Linda had been more special to me than I could have ever dreamed, and the memory of her demise still hurt a great deal. But a part of that hurt was taken away by the look on Jenny's face. At least with Jenny, I might find some more happiness.
"But he's kinda lonely...always has been." I told her, "Social, but a bit brash. And he's really tough..."
"Tough?" Jenny asked with a raised eyebrow, "Or just stupid?"
I snorted to tell her what I thought of that comment. "Tough." I repeated, "And he's got an ego to match..."
Woah, where did that come from? I didn't want to say that! Damned female sensibilities!
"Really?" Jenny asked, curiosity written on her face like words on a...I mean, she looked curious. Let's stay away from mentioning pages and books, okay?
When I didn't speak, she sighed.
"Well, I guess he kinda is entitled to it..." she admitted, which brought a smile to my lips, "He DOES save the store all of the time, and he has done some pretty amazing things..."
"Oh, absolutely!" I agreed, "Completely astounding, if I may say so..."
She gave me a look. Guess I'd better watch how thick I try to spread it, I thought.
"But," Jenny continued, "Is he like that in private? Is that the way he is all of the time? Or just in public?"
Now, this was a bit of a challenge for me, folks. Tell her the truth, or tell her what I think she wants to hear.
"In private," I said slowly, making up my mind as I went, "He's really shy. Really shy. Unless he's just done something amazing to boost his confidence, like with Lisa that one time, he's rather bashful. Not that amazing at all..."
There, the truth was out. My damned conscience had to tell the truth, and now she was gonna think I was a pathetic, socially-inept moron who was destined to work retail for the rest of his life and never find a girl. But she surprised me.
"Really?" she said with a grin, "I was kinda hoping so. I mean, that bravado is rather amusing, but I would get tired of it after a while. And I don't mind if he's a little timid...in fact, I think it's kinda sweet..."
My mind exploded with happy shouts. BINGO! How frickin' lucky was I!? (Other than the 'went-to-the-cabin-holding-the-Necronomicon', 'had-to-kill-my-fiancée-and-lost-my-hand', 'got-transported-to-the-1300s', 'turned-into-a-woman' type stuff, I mean...)
"So..." I said, rather shocked, "You...like that kind of a thing in a man?"
Jenny shrugged, and then gave me a smile. And I was about to smile back when I got a horrible pain in my stomach and abdomen. I mean, it was bad...cramps and bloating. I hadn't felt anything this bad since I'd sawed off my own hand. I felt like falling off of the chair and moaning in agony. Or maybe dying...dying sounded like a worthy alternative to this. Then, I felt wetness between...there.
Without a word, I got up as fast as I could and ran to the bathroom. I couldn't go that fast because of the pain, but I had to find out what was wrong with me, and the bathroom was the only place I could think of where I could freely examine everything. It took me a minute to figure out that I was going into the wrong room at first, but then I plunged through the ladies' room door and immediately got to the toilet.
As I got myself ready to go (pants down, etc. which takes an unholy amount of time for a woman), I got another little surprise in this day full of them.
Red. Red all over.
Shit.
But I didn't have time to think of anything before I heard the banging at the bathroom door. My heart stopped at the thought of it being Jenny, but I was reassured a moment later that it was not in fact the woman who I was hoping to go out with.
"Unc..I mean, Ashley?" came the young voice of my niece Lindsey much to my relief, "Are you all right in there? Jenny's worried about you. She said you just got up suddenly and ran into there..."
I waited a moment for her to stop banging, then I shouted back, "Yeah, I'm okay. I just...had to go. But, um...I have a little bit of a problem..."
I could practically hear the confusion on her face.
"What?"
I sighed out deeply, and then looked back down at my little problem. What a time for this...
"I...kinda got my period..."
I didn't exactly get the response I was looking for. Just a thump, and a sound I was getting more and more familiar with as the day progressed. Laughter.
"I hate you..."
##
"You have just reached the phone of Alexander Williams. I'm not home right now, but if you'd like to leave a messages, I'll get back to you as soon, okay? BEEP."
I hate message machines. It's always been my own personal idea that if you miss the phone, you miss the phone. End, period, amen. I mean, you never know how to talk on these damned things, and being a bit nutty today for various reasons, my brain wasn't working too well.
"Alex, you need to get me the number of that Andrea chick ASAP! Just get it. I don't want to go out with her again, just get me her number..."
Then I thought about how angry I was.
"And it'd be best if you phoned me the number...or had someone else give it to me. I'm not too happy with you at the moment..."
I hung up, then began my walk back to the shelf of toasters I'd been pricing. Unfortunately, when I got there, I realized that I'd left the price gun on the floor, which would mean that I had to pick it up. And because of the horrible cramps that were stationed in my abdominal area, I knew it was going to hurt.
So I did it slowly, like I was some 60-year-old grandma. Honestly, I didn't care how I looked, I just wanted to prevent myself pain. Nerve-wracking, stomach-wrenching pain like I've never felt before and hopefully will never feel again. If women have to feel this once a month over a few days, I can certainly understand why they're so bitchy during that time. Hell, I'd just barely managed not to beat the living crap out of the last customer who'd asked me something.
Finally, after about a minute of slow moving, I picked up the price gun and started to get up. But just at that moment, a customer walked over to me.
He was big and beefy. You know, the kind of guy that both men AND women fear. The guy that slaps you on the back so hard you go flying into a table while simultaneously pinching some hot girl's ass with the other hand. The kind that drinks beer in tankards instead of bottles or cans. The kind of guy that was so totally what I couldn't deal with at the moment.
"Well, hello ma'am..." he began politely enough, with just enough of a drawl to scare me even more. Bet the guy came here on a motorcycle too with that jacket on and everything. What a pig...
I didn't just think that.
"Hi..." I grumbled as cheerfully as I could considering the circumstances. Which wasn't very much. It was just this side of 'ready to kill you' to be perfectly honest. But that didn't seem to phase him.
Ah, round two with the primative chauvenistic assholes. I hoped he was as much of a pushover as Frank...but I doubted it.
"Aren't you a pretty little thing..." he continued, as if he hadn't heard my response and he was just inspecting a nice puppy.
Damn, I hate being petite as a woman.
"The pretty little thing has a name, SIR..." I told him as I continued to stick the prices onto the toasters, "Which you, hopefully, can read right there on the nametag...SIR..."
"And what might that be, darlin'?" he asked, a slight leer gracing the crater-filled mass some might kindly refer to as a face, "With you workin' so hard like that, I kin hardly see that tiny little tag on that lovely uniform you're wearing."
Yeah, right. 'Lovely uniform' my ass. He wasn't looking at the uniform...he was looking at the two items under the uniform. Two items in this store that were NOT for sale, not for rent, and certainly not about to be given away.
"It's Ashley" I told him gruffly, hoping my growl (while not as affective as normal) would at least register on his emotional radar. Nope. Not a bit.
"Well, Ashley..." he said, trying to make my name sound sweet and sexy and failing utterly, "My name is Jake-"
How did I know that was coming? But I had to ask something, just because.
"You wouldn't happen to know a Bobbi Joe, would you?" I asked carefully, switching the topic quickly and carelessly.
He gave me an odd look (which I guess I kinda deserved), then answered slowly, "Yeah. Old girlfriend..."
Too weird. Had very little to do with life at this moment, but still...too weird.
"But, as I was sayin'" he continued as if the last few second hadn't happened, "My name is Jake. I come here a lot, but I ain't ever seen you here, Ashley."
"Well, I work stock mostly." I answered quickly, trying to get him to go away by moving onto the blenders in the next isle. Unfortunately, he followed me.
"Nah..." Jake said, "I woulda noticed a beautiful woman woman such as yourself. With a...haircut like that, how could I miss you?"
When he said 'haircut', it meant the same thing as 'uniform', and I knew it. I knew it, and so did the hand that was itching towards my shotgun. I was surprised he hadn't commented on such a 'pretty lady with a big gun' yet, but perhaps he'd seen the show earlier and knew already. Then again, if he had, I wondered why he was bothering me now.
However, I knew that I couldn't shoot a guy for coming onto me, despite how logical it looked at the time. Even if he had the charm of a year old hamburger (and the smell of one).
Fortunately, I was saved from doing something rash and stupid (which was unusual, since I usually DO the rash and stupid act, THEN get interrupted when I'm trying to fix it) by a certain familiar voice over the loudspeaker of the store.
"Ashley, please pick up line one..." came my niece's voice over the announcer, "Ashley, pick up line one."
Immediately, seeing my escape, I walked quickly toward the phone. Unfortunately, the beefy reject followed me.
"Wonder who that could be?" he asked me slyly.
"Probably my boyfriend, calling to tell me that he'll be late coming from football practice..." I lied as I picked up the phone, "Ever since he got into the NFL, he's had so little time to spend with me. Football and karate take up so much of his time..."
Then I gave him a sweet smile and turned away to answer the phone. I could tell from the nervous look he gave me as I spun that he'd be walking away, and my prediction was fufilled a few seconds later as I heard those beefy feet make their way to another part of the store.
I forgot him, and pressed the button for line one. I was immediately answered by the voice of my cousin Alex, who was at the time singing the Jeopardy song just like everyone does when they're on hold. At least I do.
"Can it, Alex, and tell me what I need to know..." I greeted him.
Alex, being the bright young man that I knew him to be (for the most part) didn't even bother with the plesantries. He knew he was in some seriously deep shit with me, and so he told me just what I needed to know and nothing more.
"555-1228"
"Thank you..." I told him with a smile. You have to appreciate the minor victories...the minor good luck, otherwise you won't have as much to appreciate.
"No prob." he said shortly, "And she's at home, as far as I know. Took the day off."
Yeah, making my life a living hell must have really taken it out of her.
"Good?" he asked, like a little kid who'd just cleaned up the huge juice mess he'd made.
"Good." I confirmed, like a parent looking at a spotless floor that wasn't even this clean to begin with. "Thanks."
Then, predictably, he hung up. I did the same, then pressed the button to get me the manager's office. As I expected, the chipper voice of our other assistant manager, Lawrence, was heard immediately.
"Hello. Whatcha need, Housewares?" he asked like he always did.
"Me and Lindsey are gonna head out early today...right now." I told him, "We have a little family problem to deal with, and the both of us need to get out of here. Is that all right?"
"It's fine as long as you don't mind losing the money from your paycheck..." answered Lawrence with a verbal grin, "Yeah. You can go home. No problem. And so can Lindsey."
"Thanks, Larry." I said with genuine appreciation.
"Yeah, head home..." the manager continued, "You sound a little funny anyway. Kinda high-pitched. You're throat hearting you?"
"Nah, I'm fine..." I assured him. "See ya tomorrow."
"See ya, Ash."
Then I hung up, headed to the back to get my things, and for the first time that day, I had a bit of a spring in my step.

##
Lindsey met me at the car as usual, still in her S-mart uniform. Usually, she liked to switch into her normal outfit of jeans and a t-shirt, but she'd obviously figured out my need for haste and forgone the change.
"Ready to go, kid?" I asked as I yanked open the driver's side door for her.
"Yeah..." Lindsey answered quickly as she got in, "And even if I wasn't, we gotta get this fixed ASAP."
"Amen to that..." I replied, closing the door. Then I made my way over to the driver's side and carefully made me way in. I still had those damned cramps, so it took a while. But things went faster after I got settled.
Now, over the years, many people have commented on my driving. I've been called many things. A lunatic. A maniac. An asshole. A moron.
I've even been called a New Yorker.
But of all the comments that have been flung at me over a finger in the middle of traffic, 'woman driver' (for obvious reasons) has never been one of them. And yet, it annoyed me the most.
"What do you mean, 'woman drivers suck'?" I shouted out the window with an angry glare.
"Calm down, Ash..." my niece cautioned.
"No, did you hear what that guy-"
"Yeah, and I've heard it before..." she continued, "You get used to it."
"I don't intend to." I answered gruffly, "But-"
Then I thought for a minute. I thought about what had started this whole thing. The date. The joke.
"Exactly." Lindsey told me with that smug understanding that I had come to be really annoyed by as the day had progressed. Why did this being a woman thing have to have so many annoying parts? Breasts that moved while you walked, hair that actually required more than a minute to brush, sexist assholes, high-heel shoes (which I luckily hadn't experienced yet, and didn't want to), periods, nails, girl-talk...
If I was any other person, I'm pretty sure that I'd be in a catatonic state by now. If it weren't for the fact that I'm already pretty insane...
Well, it probably wouldn't have been pretty.
Not that I was taking it as well as it would appear. I mean, it's a pretty radical change. A real loss, and I'm not just talking about the organs if you know what I mean. I never knew it was so hard.
And that got me thinking scary thoughts as I drove.
Maybe...Andrea had been right. Maybe...I had been an asshole. Maybe...I had needed to learn a lesson.
Or maybe estrogen was blocking the more important pathways in my brain.
It was at this point that I realized where I was. Or rather, Lindsey realized where we were and told me.
"Ash, we're here..."
"Oh..." I replied intelligently.
There was a moment of silence.
"Well, do you want to be a woman for the rest of your life?"
"No."
"Then maybe you should get out of the car." She pointed out.
Ahh....bright idea.
And so I did. I got out (slowly for reasons already explained) then made my way to the door of the squat little house. At first, I couldn't bring myself to ring the bell. I mean, if she's a powerful enough witch to change my sex, what ELSE could she do to me OR Lindsey. But then I thought of a whole lifetime like this day, and decided that I had better ring the door.
Sure, being a woman wasn't Hell, but I was pretty sure it'd kill me a lot quicker than being a man would.
And that's not just because it was harder to kill deadites this way if you get my meaning.
And so, with a courage that startles me even now, I pushed the little button next to the door.

As expected when one does such a thing, the doorbell rang in the house with a rather pleasant tinkle.

"Coming!" came the almost immediate cheery reply in the voice of the woman I had decided was Satan's sister-in-law. My expression must have changed when I heard it, because suddenly I felt a touch on my arm. Surprised, I turned to Lindsay, who had a strange expression on her face.

"Now, don't go ballistic, Unc..." she warned me, her tone calming and quiet, "Throttling her might make you feel better for a couple of minutes, but it won't get you back to normal..."

I was about to reply along the lines of 'of course, I knew that' when I realized that my teeth had been clenched so tightly together that my teeth had practically melded together. Not to mention the fact that I every muscle in my body was tensed, including the one my niece's hand was on.

I breathed out, forcing all the anger I possibly could with it. I'm not exactly the best at anger management...in the conventional sense. I tend to deal with my anger in a destructive way. Not self-destructive or anything; I've never tried to hurt myself, especially since there are so many other forces trying to do that already. More along the lines of property-destructive.

However, I didn't have a chance to do anything else because suddenly the door was opened before me, revealing the catalyst to all of the day's troubles.

"Hello?" asked the Satan-bitch with a bright smile, "How can I help you?"

There was a pause as I just stared at the woman who had brought me such great pain, wondering at the audacity of that smile.

"Um...are you sure you've come to the right house?" the evil paragon of wickedness asked politely. How dare she? How dare she be polite?

"Yes, I'm sure we have..." Lindsay began smoothly, using the innate skill teenagers seem to have to get out of tight spots, "We're looking for Andrea?"

"I'm she..." answered the atrocious beast before me as she straightened her hair a bit and fixed her shirt. The bitch!

"Well-"

I shook my head and clapped a hand to my niece's mouth. I had to do this one by myself. I had to be a man about this...as much as possible.

"Change me back." I said, my voice tight with effort. It was hard, but I did sound civil. Basically.

She blinked. "I'm sorry-"

No you're not.

"But I have no idea-"

"I'm Ashley Jeremiah Williams." I told her, unable to stop myself from stepping toward her and into the house, "I work as S-Mart. You and I had a blind date the other night...one that my dumbass of a cousin set us up on..."

I stepped toward her again, forcing her back. I kept coming, unable to entirely hold in the anger. I figured invading her personal space was a little better then beating her to death. I think Lindsay agreed since she did nothing to stop me.

"Then my friend told a joke, and I laughed...and you said that I was a sexist pig. Then you said you'd teach me a lesson..."

Her eyes opened wide as she took me in, all five feet of red-hot rage. If looks could kill, she'd have been dead fifty times over.

"Ash?" she asked, eyes lost and confused as they looked into mine.

"No shit..." I replied with as much grace as I could muster.

The evil monster looked at my hair, at my face, at my hand, and then at my figure.

"Oh my god, it worked!"

Now I was the idiot blinking and looking.

"What do you mean, 'it worked'?"

Now she smiled, but the smile faltered in the face of me.

"Well," she explained slowly, slipping away from me to gain some space to breath, "I...didn't exactly think it was going to work. I mean, sure, I've done some minor spell work before, but this was totally new ground for me, personally..."

"New work?" Lindsay asked curiously, coming from behind me. I glanced towards my niece, then turned back to Andrea. Yes, the rage had descended to the point where I could call her by name again.

"Yeah..." Andrea admitted to us as she ushered us to the living room. "I mean, I didn't think I'd be able to pull it off the first time I tried. I sort of half-expected nothing to happen, which is partly why I did it to you. I never imagined-"

"That it would work." I finished for her tiredly.

"Pretty much..." she said, having the good grace to look very very sorry.

There was a pause, and then I thought of something.

"So, you DO know how to reverse this, right?"

And that's when Murphy's Law smacked me in the face for the millionth time.

"Um...no."