You've heard of them, you've seen them. Larger than life, beyond all reason, understanding and morality than should be allowed. Hell, you've probably held one in your hands. But this is the story of one particular family and the problems that arise when you find yourself in abundance... of stuff you don't really need.

"Honey?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"It's happened again," was the reply.

"I am aware of that."

"Is it still nearby?"

"I think it's out in the garden this time dear," came the reply very calmly.

"Are you sure?"

"I have a very good hunch it didn't get very far,"

"You can see the damn medallion from the kitchen window, can't you?"

"Yes, now hurry up. Your breakfast is getting cold and I'm sure you don't want to have to sit down to pee."

"Quite."

Michael was an average teenager. Average in the ways that count in the eyes of other teenagers. To certain other people, however. Michael was anything but.

On this day, Michael sat up out of bed, looked down and sighed at the view. It wasn't as though breasts weren't as enjoyable as one would think, but since Michael had been born a boy, well they just shouldn't have been there.

A gentle caress of his, now her, feminine features before standing up and moving over to the wardrobe where she looked herself over in the mirror bolted to the inside of the wardrobe door and then began rummaging through a bin inside.

She found a solid purple colored pair of cotton panties and examined them closely, inside and out, testing the elastic and rubbing her fingers over almost every inch of fabric before sighing again and putting them on.

Next came black leggings, a denim skirt, turtleneck and denim vest. Each article was examined as thoroughly as her underwear.

Just as she was buttoning up the vest, her hand slid across her left fabric-covered nipple and she cursed, then sighed and took off the vest, shirt and then applied Anti-perspirant to her underarms before locating a bra.

The bra was also examined with all the intensity of someone inspecting for a single speck of dust, before she sighed once again and put it on.

With the turtleneck and vest once again on, buttoned, collar folded down and hair freed from against her neck, she stepped down out of the wardrobe and closed it.

As she walked away, a strange symbol made of circles, triangles and many characters of a strange language glowed briefly across it's front surface before fading away again.

Michael had moved into her bathroom and pulled down her skirt and leggings, took care of business and then wriggled around under the multiple waistbands until she was comfortable again.

"A package from from... Cairo? Do we know anyone there?"

"Your aunt Silvia was going there on holiday,"

"Well, her attached letter says that she just 'happened' to have found 'the most darling thing' for Michael while checking out some of the street vendors there."

"Put it in the box George..."

"But, don't you?"

"Put it in the box, Please. You remember the Ancient Tibetan Tapestry, don't you?"

"Yes dear."

Michael came walking down the stairs. She made care to avoid touching the third and eighth steps and the ever-widening crack on the fifth.

"Dad, the crack's getting bigger!"

"I know," said her father, sitting in his rocker, looking at the paper. "I have some 'treated' lumber coming today by express post for just such a purpose."

Michael's father then lowered the paper just enough so he could see his child. He nodded his head and went back to reading.

"Honey, did I hear..." said Michael's mother as she came out of the kitchen holding a spoon in one hand that was gloved in a medieval gauntlet.

"Mom!" Shrieked Michael, "What are you doing with that spoon?"

"You have to admit dear," Michael's mother smugly replied, "that it does a fine job mixing up pancakes."

"I've just lost my appitite," Michael replied with a sigh.

"Mine too," her father chimed in.

"Phooey on both of you," Michael's mother said. "As long as you don't touch the handle, you're fine."

"Please put it in the box, Mom," said Michael.

"Alright fine, but tell me why... why... why you're a girl again?"

"We go over this every single time," Michael replied as her put her hand to her forehead.

"You didn't sleep with the cursed body pillow again, did you?"

"Not since I was twelve!" she replied.

"The vengeful ghost?"

"Taken care of and on to her next life."

"I didn't make the demon chili recipe again, did I?"

"I haven't eaten any of your chili since that day, demon possessed or otherwise..."

"Where is the Elvis recording?"

"Burned."

"The latex voodoo dolls?"

"Those too."

"The Lost trident of Atlantis?"

"We sold that to the Smithsonian Institute. Call them, I'm sure they still have it under lock and key."

"What about the alien DNA?"

"Back with the rest of the alien, where he belongs. In area 52."

"Bikini Beach tickets?"

"Not this month, it's February, even on the east coast. I do think the beach is under snow."

"The medallion of Zu?"

"I heard you two bickering about it this morning, but I'm ME, not some girl from school."

"Cursed clothing?"

"I was a girl already when I got up, but I double-checked this outfit before I put them on."

"The bathroom toilet seat again?!"

"That was only that horrible never-cleaned dump on the way to Saskatchewan! That's Never happened here."

"The third step?"

"No..."

"The eighth?"

"No again..."

"the crack on the fifth?"

"Geez mom, it was just that one time!"

"Mystic Quest?"

"Not yet anyway, but I have a feeling that next weekend will be another dungeon crawl."

"That devilish wizard from the shop in the mall?"

"I still remember hearing him say that he pitied me, so no."

"School project?"

"What the hell school do you think I go to anyway? Whatley Academy?"

"Jilted Girlfriend?"

"As if I ever had one to begin with. I am too busy fighting off boys."

"Jilted BOYfriend then?"

"MOM!!"

"You pissed off a witch?"

"The one next door is kind enough to take care of that problem for me, no."

"I know I have incinerated every monkey paw, bronze and wooden idols and pictures of Miley Cirus that have ever entered this house.

I took down the evil painting of your great-great grandmother Giselda and deleted any and all Abba songs off my MP3 player, so what is it that caused you to become a girl THIS TIME?"

"It's Thursday," was Michael's reply.

There was a long pause.

"Oh, yes. I forgot completely."

"As you have every Thursday for the last four months," Michael replied. "Well, I've got to go. All this arguing and I'll be late for school. Do we have any breakfast bars?"

"None that I'd send with you," her mother replied cheerfully.

As Michael, currently known to her school and everyone who had ever met her as Michelle, walked past her father to the front door, she calmly asked:

"Could I have a few bucks for the McDonald's on the way to school?"

He handed her several two-dollar bills. "Remember, nothing with the special sauce!"

"Of course dad," she said as she kissed him on the forehead and then whispered. "Try to get that spoon away from her and into the safe box. I think we can add 'Indirect transfers' to it's warning list."

"Don't worry sweetie, I'll make sure your father's head, in my body, is cleared up by the time you get home."

"I thought you switched?"

"So does he, incidentally."

"Wow, that is some spoon."

"Indeed, now off to school."

Author's note: I wrote this while tired off my ass and I thought it was funny. I'd like to see if people a little better slept than me agree.

BTW, the title used to have a third word that I purposely left out. It starts with a C.