A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 66
Freaky Friday (12) – Congrats Dad, It’s a Boy!

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“I’m proud of you, Mom,” the boy said, giving me a big smile and a hug.  You actually convinced the girl to delete the bad video.  That’s not a common outcome.  Maybe we can be a good team.”

I squeezed him back, but cautioned, “I’m not a psychologist yet, and I was really nervous, but I’m glad you were with me.  Now tell me, how the hell did you know all of Peter’s habits without asking?  Had you talked to his parents before?”

“No, Mom.  Most boys have behavioral patterns that are easy to recognize.  I recall another boy who once drew a face on his penis and called it “Peepee the clown.”

I pretended to clear my throat.  “Uh-hum … How immature and embarrassing … But, Sam, it’s absolutely uncanny how you can quickly dissect a problem and recommend a solution in minutes.  I’m amazed.”

The boy looked at me with warm eyes.  “Mom, this is what I’ve dedicated my life to be doing, helping all the freaks out there.  In my view, a freak is a good person looking for a good listener.”

“Sam, we’ve still got a few hours to kill before your dad’s picnic.”

“Oh right.  Mom, I want to give you something to wear at Dad’s house.  I’ll be right back.”

The happy boy raced out of the big bedroom and a minute later, he raced back in with a big laugh, throwing a tee shirt in my face.  I turned it around to read the front.

“I Survived The St. Thomas BLOB.”

“Aaaaaaaaaah ha ha,” I burst out laughing along with the boy.  “I’m glad we bought these, Sam.  And they’re still a perfect fit.  We just exchanged shirts.

“Mom, eight billion people in world have heard of the blob, but only you and I know its true origin.”

“Sam, if truth be told, I should add the word ‘Barely’ to the bottom of my shirt.  I was a newly minted 14 year old boy when I accidentally created the blob.  I could be in jail right now if the ‘I Phelta Thi’ fraternity hadn’t jumped in to take credit.”

“Yeah, but you’d be in jail as Derrek and you’d still have your penis.  Mom, this is going to be a terribly awkward conversation with my dad today.  You know the Queen song, ‘We Will Rock You’?   Well that’s what we’re going to do to Paul Adams today.  He’s always had my back in the past, but this is going to be a real test.”

The clock struck 4pm and we were both really hungry.  But hot dogs would have to wait till we ‘fessed up’ and cleared the air about our condition.  We were both seriously nervous as we walked up the front steps of Paul Adam’s house.

“Howdy strangers,” he greeted us.  “Welcome back to earth.”

As the adult, I replied, “Hi Dad.”

He looked at our shirts.  “So you survived the St. Thomas blob, huh.  And where’s mine that says ‘My daughter went to St. Thomas and all I got was this lousy tee shirt?’”  Paul then looked at the boy and asked, “Derrek, are you ready to resume your duties as the chef-meister?”

I had to interrupt. “Uh, Dad, there are a few things we first need to discuss with you concerning our recent trip.  Is it okay if we sit in the living room?”

“Uh oh, sounds serious … Okay, let’s take our seats.”

“It is, Dad.  When we bumped into each other at the grocery store, I wasn’t at liberty to disclose some important details.”

“Are you guys in trouble with the law?” Paul inquired.

“No, Dad.  We were both affected by the EMP when lightning struck the wing of our plane … and traveled through our bodies before exiting the plane on the other wing.”

“Hold on, Sam.  Are you saying that both of you were electrocuted?”

“Yes, and it affected our brains.”

Paul’s eyes widened.  “My god, what in hell did it do to you?”

“I’ll tell you how Professor Zapp, the scientist on the news explained it.  He said that touching an electrical conductor during an EMP will create a sinusoidal wave that operates on the same frequency as brain waves.”

Paul’s head tilted.  “And what does that mean in English?”

“It means that all the electrical synapses in a person’s brain could be transferred, in whole, someplace else.”

“Okay, Sam, can you be more specific when you say ‘someplace else’?”

“Paul, this is not an April Fools joke.  ‘Someplace else’ is each other’s head. The brain of your daughter, Sammantha Adams, is now occupying the head of the little boy sitting next to me.  And the adult woman, me, talking to you now, is Derrek.”

We had no idea how Paul would react.  But it wasn’t looking good.  He got up from his large chair and went to take the hot dogs out of the refrigerator … and he grabbed a beer for himself.  Then he went outside and fired up the grill.

I looked at the boy sitting next to me.  “Sam, in this case, I have to handle it.”  The boy agreed.

I walked outside the back door to confront Sammantha’s father.

“I’m not lying, Paul.  I’m Derrek and the little boy is Sammantha.”

Paul would not even look at me, but he spoke.  “Sam, I really don’t have time for this bullshit.  Last time, you tried to convince me that Derrek had some kind of evil water curse.  Today you’re tying to tell me that Derrek is my daughter. Surely you can’t be serious.”

The young boy made a sudden surprise appearance on the patio.  Sam and I looked at each other and decided to recite the punch line together.

“I Am Serious … And Stop Calling Me Shirley.”

“It’s the truth, Dad,” the boy protested.

“No, it’s not.  Look, Sam, right now, I don’t even care if you two stay or leave, but I’m tired of the bullshit.  I’ve always had your back, so it’s a puzzle to try to figure out why you’re messing with me now.  I don’t think it’s very funny.”

 “Hey, Dad!  Ask me something that only you and Sammantha would know the answer to.”

Paul threw all the hot dogs on the grill at once.  Then he waited about a minute and a half to turn them for the first time.  Then, without facing the boy, he spoke up and he spoke quickly.

“What’s the maiden name of your biological mother?”

Sam, as the boy, quickly replied.  “Louise Martin.”

“Birthday?”

“August 9^th.”

“Do the same for her kids.”

“My half-brother, Brian, was born on November 3^rd.  My half sister Debra, was born on April 25^th.”

“Who gave you the ‘birds-and-the-bees’ talk, Mom or Dad?”

The boy continued to answer in rapid fire fashion.  “It was you, Dad, when I was six years old and we were fishing on the boat.”

“Tell me how you broke your right leg playing football at age ten.”

“All three are wrong.  I broke my left arm playing baseball at age eight when another kid was swinging his bat in the on-deck circle.”

“What was the name of our dog?”

“It wasn’t a dog.  It was a cat, and the cat’s name was Fiddlesticks.”

“How many kittens were in her first litter?”

“None, Fiddlesticks was a male.”

“Tell me how he died.”

“He died of old age at 15.  I wanted to bury him in the back yard, but it was winter and the ground was too hard.  So I put him in the freezer under the ice cream till spring.”

“Flavors?”

“Strawberry and Butter Pecan … and Fiddlesticks is in our yard over there.”  Sam pointed to the corner of the back yard.

Paul took a deep breath and exhaled, while turning the hot dogs again.  Then he walked toward the boy but he didn’t look very happy.

“So are you glad you have a penis now?”

Sam nodded.  “I am, but I know it’s not right.  It belongs to Derrek, but we don’t know how to reverse what happened to us.”

Paul shook his head.  “Well, don’t expect me to fix it in my workshop.  And what the hell are you going to do now, go back to elementary school?”

“No, but with the water curse, I could become an adult male in a week.”

Paul grumbled, “Time to eat, but I’m telling this to both of you … I am not a happy camper.  Why don’t you go talk to that Professor Zapp, or talk to a doctor.  Can’t you two do anything to reverse it, or is this a permanent situation?”

I answered him, “Paul, we might do that, but we’re also concerned that taking action would make things worse.  You don’t want to end up with two vegetables, do you?”

“I do,” Pual shot back. “Corn on the cob and green beans.  Here, pass the plate around.”

“Um, Dad,” the boy said.  “In the interests of honesty, there’s a few more confessions that I think we ought to inform you on.”

“Are these confessions going to ruin my day even more?” asked Paul.

“They might,” answered the boy.

“So should we start playing the Twilight Zone theme song? … do Do do do … do Do do do.”

I replied, “In this case, yes, it would be appropriate.”

Paul scoffed, “Well, right now, it would probably be even more appropriate if we all sat around like Hannibal Lecter eating someone’s brains.”

“It’s not quite that bad, Dad,” said Sam.

“And your Dad already knows about them anyway, Sam.”  I added.  “We just need to fill him in on a few minor details.”

Paul sighed, “Im sure I’ll regret hearing it, but go ahead.”

I took the lead.  “You see the famous Blob on our tee shirts?”

“Yeah.”

“I created it.”