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Blue Moon 3.4

by Donna Lamb

Joel woke up first,perhaps because of her new smaller bladder and shorter urethra. Squirming a bit,she became aware of a heavy weight lying across her middle, pinning her arm to her side. A similar weight seemed to confine her knees, perhaps a good thing at the moment. Moaning in discomfort, she tried to push her way free but the effort snapped her awake when she felt something stiff and sort of rubbery pushing against her butt.

The sun wouldn’t be up for some time yet, but rosy winter dawn light washed through a north-facing window on the last day of January. She blinked, trying to wake up. Several realizations flooded her consciousness at roughly the same time:

She needed to pee.
She had a headache.
Someone was lying half on top of her.
The room seemed curiously empty, though the bed was full.
The bedclothes were missing.
She was nude.
She had tits.
She remembered turning into a girl last night.
Somehow, it was all Richard’s fault.
Richard was the person lying on top of her.
And that was his dinkle pressing into her back.

Naturally, she screamed. Well, first she screamed — and then she bit Richard on the tricep, just above his elbow on the outside part of his arm. Just as naturally, he screamed, dreaming perhaps, that a malfunctioning roller coaster had ripped his arm off.

More screaming and shouting followed, with some hitting and pinching by Joel on handy parts of Richard’s anatomy until poor Richard fell off the far side of the bed and Joel escaped out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the only room in the apartment with an interior lock: the bathroom.

From the safety of the floor, Richard considered pulling himself under the bed in case Joel came back with the intent of kicking him. While still only half awake, he’d done nothing but try to protect vulnerable areas and push himself away from his enraged roomie. “Ow,” he said.

The fall had definitely woke him up and now he noticed the curious echoic quality of the room. From down the hall he heard Joel’s continuing, crying, screaming and cursing, interrupted now and then by her difficulty with words beginning with p, b, m, w, f or v.

“You b-b-bozo! You dick! W-w-what did you do to me? Where’s my stuff? M-my clothes! You b-b-better not have f-f-f-f-f—screwed around! OH! SHIT!” She got a bit quieter. Then in a small voice she said, “I think I p-p-p—w-w-w—tinkled on the floor.”

At this moment in time, Richard decided it would be wisest not to take any notice of his good friend who, after all, had reason to be upset. He sat up to look around. Someone had stripped the room, as if Joel had moved out months ago. The framed photos and calendar were gone, though the political poster of Barry Aronhaus remained. The personal items from the top of the chest of drawers, the computer stuff from the desk, even the bedclothes and curtains had disappeared.

Joel’s voice came down the hall. “None of m-my stuff is in here either, my toothbrush, my razor, m-mouthwash, shampoo, all gone. Even my dirty clothes from the hamper are gone! Richard you evil b-b-b-bastard!”

Knowing he had had nothing to do with the disappearance of Joel’s stuff, Richard, still dressed from last night, checked the drawers and the closet in Joel’s room. Nothing left but a few hangers, some scraps of paper in the desk and the shiny extension tube from some old vacuum cleaner that had been in the room when they had moved into the apartment years ago.

“I’m gonna kick your ass, Richard,” Joel wailed. “why were w-w-we naked? What did you do to m-m-me? Am I p-p-pregnant?”

Wincing a little, Richard eased out into the yard behind the duplex. Joel being locked in the bathroom had driven Richard to expedient solutions before. Still got mine, he thought with a little relief and a lot of satisfaction. Careful that no one could see him in the semi-dark, he pissed on a cedar bush near the walkway around the carport.

While he was so close he checked. Only the long, sleek Lincoln limo he’d driven home from work yesterday occupied the open structure. Joel’s Corolla sedan should have been parked on the driveway in front of the carport where Richard had parked it after borrowing it to go on Joel’s date. Nothing.

Even outside, Richard could clearly hear Joel’s tirade. “Except for the noise and the naked chick in the bathroom, you’d never know the poor guy had existed,” he said out loud.

Something occurred to him and he went inside to his own bedroom to check. As he passed the bathroom door, Joel screamed, “Richard! Are you out there?”

“Yes, I’m checking for stuff.” A few other things were probably missing, some of the kitchen stuff had belonged to Joel but so had the couch and it was still there.

“Have you got any clothes that m-might fit me?” Joel asked in a small voice. From the sound of it, she might be leaning on the bathroom door.

In his own bedroom, Richard shouted back. “I’m looking. One of my girlfriends left a suitcase behind once.” He’d tried to get it back to her but she wouldn’t answer his calls. He pulled it down from the top shelf of his closet, a small lavender-and-gray-paisley case of the size called a weekender.

“Oh God,” moaned Joel. “Girl’s clothes! I can’t w-wear girl’s clothes.”

“Face it, Jo-babe,” said Richard, putting the suitcase in the hallway, “you’re a chick now. If you don’t dress like a chick, people are going to figure you for a lesbo.” He went to the kitchen hell-drawer for a screwdriver to pop the lock on the suitcase with.

“Don’t call me that!”

“What? Lesbo?”

“No, Jo-b-babe. I’m not one of your b-b-babes.”

“Joel is a silly name for a girl.” He looked in the suitcase; women’s toiletries, undies, tees and shorts. All the clothes smelled of old body odors and mildew. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Okay.” Joel obviously struggled not to sob. “You can call me Joe.”

“Jo?” said Richard. In the bottom of the suitcase, he found a plastic bag and pulled it out.

“Yes, okay, Joe.”

“Or maybe Joey?” suggested Richard. “It’s only one letter different.” He unrolled and unzipped the clear plastic bag. It held that ultimate modern female article of clothing, the little black dress made of wrinkle-free, miracle knit. Richard shook it out, “Might be a little short,” he said.

“You think Joe is too short? I guess Joey is okay, too. Well, no,it isn’t b-b-but….”

Something fell out of the dress when Richard shook it: A pair of lacy black panties. Richard smiled. “I found something for you to wear.”

Joel, or Joey, said nothing for a moment. Then she whimpered in a very small voice, “It’s a dress, isn’t it?”