Man Enough

Do you ever get that feeling that she is way out of your league? That no matter what you do or how you act that girl just won’t be into you. Well that’s how I feel right now as I sit at my desk in the third row, forth column from the right of my English Literature class. You see I’m Harry Johnson, my dad thinks he has a sense of humor, a senior at Westville High and I have never had a girlfriend. You could say I am a nerd; I have the best grades in school and the most complete collection of Blademan comics you’ve ever seen. I’m also five foot eight inches tall with a lean build, short blonde hair, and thick square framed glasses.

The “she” I mentioned earlier is Jenny Traverse; she’s the captain of the girls volleyball team and the girl I’ve admired for a while now. She is a bit of a tomboy with her short raven colored curtained hair and athletic frame, but I think that she looks really cute. I always wanted to confess my feelings to her, but I’ve never had the courage to do so.

As usual I’ve zoned out for most of the class. While I appreciate her efforts to educate, Mrs. Estevez’s reading the Scarlet Letter to the class for those who haven’t done the assigned reading tends to put me to sleep. Like an alarm clock, the school bell pulls me out of my daze and announces the end of the day. “Well that’s all for today class, see you Monday and don’t forget your paper is due Tuesday so make sure to work on it,” Mrs. Estevez doled out even though everyone was too busy leaving to pay attention.

Everyone is always in a hurry to leave on Friday; they have plans and parties to go to, but not me. My life is boring and predictable. The most interesting part of my day is when I walk past the Collector’s house; I’ve never met the collector, but every Friday when I walk by at three fifteen he would pull into his drive way in his powder blue, 1960s Volkswagen Van with its painting of bearded lady on the left side. He’d shimmy from the driver seat over to the passenger side before getting out, presumably because the driver side door won’t open, and walk around to the back of van then opens the door in order to retrieve this week’s treasure. In the past I’ve seen him pull out a shrunken head, a confederate officer saber, and even a nude portrait of Albert Einstein, but today it was only a leg lamp. I was a little disappointed, but it seemed that his wife had had enough.  Normally she waits to chastise him once he gets inside the house, however today she waited for him on their stoop. At six feet four inches tall and three hundred pounds she towered over his five and half foot near skeletal frame. Despite this I always thought they looked good together in an unorthodox sort of way; her sun-bleached pink bathrobe and curler combo seemed to compliment his stained Pink Floyd T-shirt and acid washed jeans.

“Oh hell no! You did not just buy a leg lamp,” she barked in frustration.

“Well you see, the guy at the shop. He said, that it contained umm… Arabian magic’s.” He replied disheartened.

“What makes you think you should be spending my money on crap like this,” she ripped the lamp out of his hands then shoved it back in his face, “You can’t even afford to pay the electric bill and yet you waste my money on stuff like this?”

“Well maybe, we could save more money, if you… went on a diet,” he muttered preparing for retribution.

She channeled her inner diva and retorted, “Oh no you did-ent! That’s it I’ve had enough, I’m getting rid of all this crap right now! Hey you kid.”

“M…Me,” I was like a deer in the headlights. This whole scene had unfolded like a car accident on the highway, I just couldn’t look away, but now I was being dragged into it.

“Yah you, Happy Birthday,” she shouted sarcastically before launching the lamp in my direction.

With no choice but to catch it, I simply replied, “Thanks,” before bolting down the sidewalk. I had run two blocks before I realized that I was still clutching onto the leg lamp. As I stared down at the lamp, I saw sweat drip onto the lamp from my brow. I halfheartedly wipe the sweat from my face and lamp with the sleeve of my shirt. The lamp began to glow brightly despite not being plugged in, so in shock I dropped it.

A purple mist arose from the shattered shards of lamp and began to arrange itself into a bipedal formation. The mist faded to reveal a man dressed as if he had been ripped straight from a cheap Aladdin knockoff. In a deep melodramatic roar he spoke, “I am the Genie of the lamp, and you just broke my house!”

Crap! Either I’ve just gone crazy or I’ve pissed off a fairy tale with supernaturally deadly powers.

“Since you rubbed my lamp I will grant you one and only one wish.”

“I thought genie’s granted three wishes,” I asked as if fiction would be accurate.

“Normally yes, but you broke my lamp so deal with it. On that note you cannot wish any of the following four wishes: make someone fall in love with you, kill someone, bring someone back from the dead, or make the Lions win a playoff game, believe me Barry tried.”

I had to take a moment to think. It’s true that I wanted nothing more than for Jenny to fall in love with me, but it appears I can’t wish for that directly. The only thing I can do is make the odds statistically in my favor to win her heart, so I blurt it out, “I wish for you to make as physically attractive to Jenny Travers as possible.”

He pauses for moment seemingly to ponder my request while he strokes his chin, “Very well,” his hand stops mid stroke as he responds to me, “when you wake up tomorrow you will find that your body has been transformed as per your request, but for now goodnight.” As he finishes, a purple mist engulfs my entire body; everything went to black.

I wake up the next morning with as my brain tries to distinguish reality from dreams. “What a strange dream,” I mutter to myself as I stretch in bed. I roll over in order to reach for my glasses which I can clearly see on my nightstand…. I can clearly see. My brain begins to catch up and piece together the events of yesterday. Out of excitement I leapt from my bed when I surprisingly feel something flop on my chest as I touch back on the ground. Looking down I saw a rather large pair of breasts attached to my chest. It takes a moment for the hamster wheel in my brain process this information when a terrifying thought occurs to me. In desperation I urgently shove my hands down my pants; my face fills with dread “I-it’s gone…. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” I howl in my most vaderlike impression. I’ve become a girl.

Author's Note

Please be constructive and brutal.