From: gooley@netcom.com (Mark. Gooley)
Subject: puree of loneliness with asbestos fiber diet named Dieter
Followup-To: alt.fan.gooley,alt.pets.chia
Organization: Netcom Online Communications Services (408-241-9760 login: guest)
Date: Mon, 21 Dec 1992 02:05:46 GMT

	He was working late at the office, or rather wasting time trying
not to work.  One of the janitors came into his cubicle and emptied the
wastebasket full of candy wrappers and shattered dreams.  He turned his
chair around and saw that the janitor was a shapely blonde woman with
a pleasant face.  "Good evening," he said.
	"Good evening," she said.  "You seem ill at ease."
	"Yes," he said.
	"I'm not really a janitor," she said.  "I'm a psychologist hired
by your company to keep an eye on employees who work late.  Would you like
to talk?"
	"You're very pretty," he said.  "I'd love to talk with a pretty
woman for a while."
	She sat in his visitor's chair and they talked.  He told her of
his perfectly normal childhood being taunted by other children, his
romantic fantasies, his kindly and overprotective parents, and his
disgusting personal habits.  Nothing shocked her.  She encouraged him to
drag up unpleasant memories, and he told all, occasionally breaking down
in tears of self-pity and shame.
	"I lied," she said when he had talked himself out.  "I'm not
really a psychologist."
	"Oh, shit," he said.  "Now I suppose you'll blackmail me."
	"Why should I?" she said.  "I'm your fairy godmother."
	"Funny, I guess I have a stereotyped view of lesbians," he said.
	She laughed, and stood up, her overalls turning into a shimmering
long dress and a pair of beautiful iridescent wings sprouting from her
back.  "Not that type of fairy," she said.  From nowhere she took a
midnight-blue cloak and wrapped herself in it.  "Let's go," she said.
	He took it in stride.  "Where?"
	"You'll see," she said.
	She led him to his own car, and they drove to the airport.  She
had him park in an expensive short-term garage adjacent to the terminal.
"Never mind how much it costs," she said.  She had him purchase a round-
trip ticket to a far destination, putting it on his credit card.  Afterwards
he complained about the cost, but she said, "You'll never have to pay it."
	He excused himself to go to the bathroom.  "Don't be too surprised
at what you see in the mirror," she said.  He went in and caught a glimpse
of his own reflection: the face was not his.  It was ruggedly handsome,
some years younger, with a thick fair beard matching heavy blond hair.
His clothes had changed slightly, mostly to account for powerful new
muscles.  When he urinated he was surprised to find himself uncircumcised.
	When he came out of the bathroom, she was at his side before he
even had to look for her.  "See?" she said.  "You really won't have to
pay for the ticket.  You're somebody else."
	"I didn't ask to be somebody else," he said.
	"Everything but that," she said.
	She saw his off at his gate.  Just before he entered the jetway he
turned and looked back at her, but she had vanished.
	A few hours later he was in a city he had never visited before,
but its airport was familiar.  He picked up baggage that he hadn't checked,
went to the long-term-parking garage for the pickup he'd never driven, paid
the fee corresponding to the date on the ticket he found on its dashboard,
and drove to a home he'd never seen before.  The droll little brunette
ran out of the front door before he'd even reached the driveway, and when
he saw her he knew that she was his beloved wife.  It was by sheer accident
that he hit the gas pedal rather than the brake, smashing the truck into
her and then through the garage door.  She died in his arms.

Mark., ever have one of those *lives*?
gooley@netcom.com
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