Josh groped for the alarm clock, muttering a couple of choice words as he tried to hit the 'snooze' button. Bad enough that he'd gotten to bed late, but the buzzer had interrupted a really nice dream.
Failing to find the button by feel, he sat up groggily and turned the damned alarm completely off. It was tempting to lie back down, but he knew if he did, he'd be late for work. So he kicked off the covers and trudged into the bathroom. He didn't even bother turning on the light as he drained last night's beer and sodas. This was one target he could hit blindfolded.
His bladder emptied, he moved to the sink and turned on the hot water. Josh had a routine he went through every morning. Get up, piss, wash face, shave, brush teeth, take shower, get dressed, go to work. As he lathered up his hands, he realized with disgust that the rest of his day could be patterned just as easily. Drive to work, get coffee, sit at desk, eat lunch, sit at desk, go home, fix dinner, watch TV, go to bed. He wasn't just in a rut. He WAS a rut.
Last night's dream came to mind, and he smiled as he spread soap on his face. Not even anything exciting there. It was hard to remember clearly, but he'd been playing softball, riding a bike, running away from some kid in a game of tag. Pretty much the normal things he used to do as a boy. Summertime. That's what the dream had been about. One of his childhood summers.
He thought about the cold, blustery weather waiting outside and grimaced. No wonder he was dreaming about warm, clear days. And this was just the start of winter. Depressed again, he finished washing up.
As he soaped around his nose, there was a stinging pain. Curious, he leaned towards the mirror for a better look. Damn! He had a zit on his left nostril! One of the big, juicy ones he'd had when he was a teenager. Disgusted, he popped it with his fingernails, and used a cloth to clean the bleeding sore afterwards. What the Hell had caused that? He hadn't had pimples in years. Pimples and gray hair made a really bad combination.
Except he didn't notice any gray hairs this morning. That was unusual. Maybe he'd plucked them all out. They really stood out in his dark brown mop, and he sometimes went after the offending strands with tweezers. Well, there would be more.
Josh shaved and brushed his teeth almost on auto pilot, thinking about the coming day at the office. It wasn't until he rinsed his mouth out that he actually noticed his reflection looked different. Was he losing weight? Despite having slept only a few hours, he looked more rested and refreshed than he had for a long time.
His gloomy mood improved a bit, and got better as he lathered his chest. He really was losing weight! He hadn't been doing anything drastic, but maybe switching from candy-bars to those no-fat pretzels for snacks made a bigger difference than he thought. Not that he'd ever been fat. It was just that he'd developed a slight bulge around the middle. It was completely gone.
By the time he finished his shower and dried off, he was actually feeling pretty chipper. Taking a chance, he dug into the back of his closet and pulled out some favorite old clothes he hadn't been able to get into for a couple of years. And was delighted to find that they fit perfectly.
From the comments at work, it was obvious that his weight loss was noticeable to others as well. Just about everybody made some sort of compliment, saying how much better he looked. His attitude didn't go unnoticed, either. At least four people asked what kind of drugs he was on, so they could get some for themselves!
The day passed pretty quickly, even his normal boring work seeming to be more interesting. He was annoyed at himself for making some really stupid mistakes a couple of times, but none of them were anything serious. He'd just forgotten a couple of the newer procedures.
For the first time in years, he broke his normal routine. Instead of going home, he stopped by one of the local bars for a drink. The bartender scowled at his driver's license after surprising Josh by demanding ID. First time he'd been carded in several years. Guess a few pounds really made a difference.
He stared at himself in the mirror behind the bar. Between the lost weight, and hair that had gotten longer than he usually wore it, the guy hefting the beer back at him did look pretty young. Then he frowned, leaning closer and squinting. What the Hell? A reddish spot on his reflection's forehead was tender to the touch. Another zit? Damn! He hoped he wasn't going to have another bout of acne like he'd suffered as a teenager. It had taken special cremes, washing four or five times a day with medicated soap, and a really strict diet to prevent the skin blemishes from leaving permanent damage.
Despite the pimple, his mood stayed high. And he didn't want to go home yet. So he drove over to the mall. That was unusual for him. He usually hated the huge, crowded places, but tonight was different. Wandering around, he had to grin at the looks he got from some girls who were obviously still in high school. Jail bait. Guess they were into older men.
Josh was a little surprised to realize he had a slight buzz. From one lousy beer? That stuff must be pretty potent. He wasn't drunk, really, just feeling sorta silly. On a lark, he went into one of the clothing shops, thinking about buying some new jeans. The salesman was a kid, probably still in college. Some of the stuff he showed Josh was wild, probably what the kid wore himself when he was off duty. And Josh was just drunk enough to buy a complete outfit, including tennis shoes which cost more than his last suit.
As the kid rang up his credit card, Josh almost laughed at himself in the mirror. God! Between the clothes, the lost weight, and his shaggy hair, he looked even younger than the salesman! It seemed really strange, but if anything, he felt even drunker than before. So he wore the stuff out of the store, carrying his business stuff in the shopping bag.
Still not ready to go home, he walked all over the mall, finally stopping in a big video arcade. Although it had been years since he played, he found a couple of old favorites and quickly remembered the tricks that had made him an ace player. His skill won him an audience of kids, who introduced him to some newer games. Despite his buzz, he got the hang of the multiple-control fighting stuff, and had a line of kids waiting to try beating him by the time the mall closed.
The alarm again. Josh woke up and stretched, fully awake immediately. Sitting up, he slapped the off button and rubbed his eyes. What a weird dream. As he jumped out of bed, he stumbled over something unfamiliar. Tennis shoes. Fancy, expensive tennis shoes. Bewildered, he looked around the floor and saw a brightly patterned shirt and some really small-looking jeans crumpled in a pile.
Maybe it hadn't been a dream. The clothes, the video arcade. And the girl? There was a hazy memory of some buxom kid who couldn't have been more than 16. Shit! Josh thought frantically. Had he given anyone his name? What the hell had he been thinking, playing around with a minor? He could go to jail! No more beer after work, that was for damn sure!
Preoccupied with his thoughts, he went through the normal routine until several spots on his face began to sting under his lathered hands. Remembering the zit on his forehead, Josh wiped off the soap and frowned. It was still there all right. With a lot of company. And there were other sores under the soap on his cheeks. Damn! Shaving was going to be a problem.
Or maybe not. He stared at himself after rinsing the rest of his face off. Angry red pimples dotted his cheeks and chin, but they were the least of his concerns right now. He didn't have any whiskers. There was hair on his face and upper lip, but it was a fine, almost invisible down. And his hair had grown out at least an inch over night, covering the top half of his ears and his forehead in a thick mane.
He brushed aside the brown strands covering his ears. No sideburns, either. Swallowing hard, Josh stepped back from the mirror and looked down. His body was slender, almost thin, and devoid of all body hair except for a modest patch around his crotch. His legs suddenly got weak, but he managed to sit down hard on the toilet seat instead of hitting the floor.
It took a moment before he was steady enough to stand again, and even then he gripped the sink with white-knuckled hands. For the first time, he really looked at his reflection. There was a kid looking back at him from the mirror. A very frightened and confused boy who might be 17 on his next birthday. But not the face of a stranger. Every painful zit, the soft chin, even the shaggy, unkempt hair were as familiar as the photo on his first driver's license.
It was easy calling in sick. Especially when he was forced to whisper to disguise a voice that was half an octave higher that it had been yesterday. The funny thing was, he was more concerned about what was going on in his head than the changes to his body. Because he was thrilled. The idea of being a kid again was wonderful. Problem was, it was also impossible. Which meant that he was going crazy.
After a while, he snagged onto the idea that he'd been slipped some drugs last night. Of course! That explained everything. The strange feelings. Realistic hallucinations. Probably one of those damned hoodlums from the arcade slipped him something in a drink, or a hot dog. And the drugs had worked with his recent dreams of being a kid.
Hanging onto that explanation, he stayed in the apartment the rest of the day, trying to focus on the TV instead of his altered body. After channel-hopping for an hour, he settled on some cable network with a lot of cartoons and stuff. Nickelodeon. Well, he'd heard of it. And the news stuff on other channels was a little hard to follow. Besides, all Josh wanted to do was wait out this stupid hallucination.
It was dark when he woke up. The TV was still on, showing some sort of info-mercial on weightlifting equipment. The dream had been really clear this time. Still the same memories of himself as a young kid, only this time they had been almost real. He could almost remember the smell of his old softball glove, the feel of the bike seat as he pedaled around the neighborhood he'd grown up in.
And then he remembered why he had fallen asleep on the floor. A quick check of his forehead detected only smooth skin. Not a single zit. His relief was tempered with a bit of irrational disappointment. He grinned to himself as he struggled up and padded into the bathroom, relying on memory in the darkness. Even if it was just a drug-induced hallucination, it had been sorta fun seeing himself as a kid again.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sprinkling of liquid on his legs. What the Hell? Groping for the light switch, he had to reach a lot higher than expected. Even before the light came on, he knew what to expect. Sure enough, the side of the toilet and floor had urine on them where he had missed the opening. There was another pool of urine forming in front of him, as the obviously pre-pubescent organ between his legs continued to drain his bladder. Oblivious to the loss of body control, Josh turned slowly to the mirror, having to stretch up on his tiptoes to see himself.
Elementary school stared back at him. Third grade, maybe. Tiny nub of a nose, almost no chin. Huge ears and eyes. He knew this face well. It was the one from his dream.
The mirror seemed to cloud for a moment, though his image remained sharp. Walls and fixtures blurred slightly, and he blinked to clear what looked like double vision. Even the mirror itself was overlaid with a ghost image, the faint outline of a more ornate, sliding mirror instead of the plain swing-out one of his apartment.
The new images were as familiar as the face. The bathroom of his parent's old house. The one that had seen him grow from Kindergarten through high school. A window was forming behind him, showing not the dark cold winter night which should have been outside his apartment wall, but a bright, warm summer morning.
Josh blinked, and the two different bathrooms switched perspective. The older place was sharper now, with his apartment becoming the ghost image. And there was a ghost image in the mirror now. An adult face overlaying the more solid reflection of an 8 year-old boy.
He could feel the link with the ghostly images, and when he tried to focus on them, the rooms flip-flopped again. He was still a boy, but as he continued to concentrate on the adult face it grew sharper, more real.
"Josh?" He stiffened suddenly at the faint but familiar voice which came from outside the older bathroom's door. His mother's voice. "Are you going to spend your whole summer vacation in the bathroom?"
A good question. And one for which he suddenly knew the answer. "Be out in a second, Mom!" He blinked as the room seemed to flicker. Had there been something there a moment ago? Then he shrugged and ran back to his room. Summer was here, and he hoped it would last forever.
The End