Freaky deaky Saturday iii: let’s get this over with

The unsatisfying conclusion to my worst short story

“I’m driving,” Susan said as she grabbed the keys to my Porsche (or Lamborghini, Ferrari, or whatever it is that I drive). “Wear something skimpy.”

Susan, in my body, made me wear a short skirt. No panties. (As a reminder, I am in Susan’s body)

Susan pounded a pint of whisky as she drove like a maniac. She reached over the console to feel up my skirt.

“Where did you last see this warlock?” she asked.

“It was down this dark and dingy back alley.”

So we parked in the alleyway. As I got out of the car, a homeless man came up to me. “Hey baby,” he said, “mind if I take that pooter for a spin?”

Susan pulled out a .45. “Back off buddy,” she said. “She’s with me.”

“Jesus! I was just asking about the car!” the homeless man replied. Then he went back to shitting in a piss-stained corner.

“How did you find my .45?” I asked Susan.

“It was already in my jacket pocket,” she replied. “What are you, some kind of psycho?”

The warlock was on the other side of the dumpster. He was schooling some kids on a game of knucklebones.

“Scram kids,” Susan said.

“Fuck off old man,” one of them replied. “Don’t make me cut you open!”

Susan once again pulled out the .45 and fired a round into the air. One of the kids pulled a straight razor and held it to my throat.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” the kid said.

“Yes,” Susan replied. She then lowered the pistol and fired a shot between his eyes.

As the kid’s body fell to the ground, the others ran off. Susan grabbed me by the arm and held me close.

“Did that turn you on?” she asked.

It did. But I said nothing.

“What’s the meaning of all this?” the warlock asked. “That kid owed me $20.”

“Put us back into our own bodies,” Susan said.

“What? Are you high?” he replied.

“You’re the warlock that cursed me yesterday when I hit you with my car,” I said. “Now I’m in her body and she’s in mine!”

“Warlock? Sweetheart, I’m just a dirty homeless man that lives behind a dumpster and grifts kids out of money.”

Susan and I look at each other. “Then why didn’t you take the money when I offered it to you?” I asked.

“I dunno. I was probably high on MDMA or something. I get hit by cars all the time!”

Susan began pounding the whiskey again. “Welp, this was a waste of time,” she said. “Oh well, let’s go.”

“What are we gonna do about this dead body?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” the “warlock” said. “People die back here all the time. It’ll be fine.”

We got back in the car. The two of us sat in silence for a moment. “I guess we’re stuck in these bodies for the rest of our lives,” Susan said.

“I guess so.”

“Wanna go back to my place and fuck?”

“Sure,” I said. “But what’s with that gimp?”

THE END 🤷‍♂️

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