... Because some people deserve everybody they have.
Instant Karma
by jtl

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Last evening, my girlfriend picked another fight over Amy.

Amy is a close friend and colleague, but unfortunately Elaine has developed an entirely pathalogical hatred for the poor woman. Amy and I manage to laugh about it during work hours, however it's an uncomfortable situation.

Over time, I've become used to Elaine's enumerations of Amy and her husband's many alleged faults and more or less tune it all out. Until some part of me decided that I'd heard quite enough paranoid rubbish spouted about how they were turning Elaine's friends against her and said as much.

That went down about as well as you'd expect, and the atmosphere in the bedroom as I drifted off was more than a little frosty.

I woke to the sound of Elaine sulking off for a shower. Honestly, the woman could keep grudges fresh for years. I drifted pleasantly towards consciousness with the feeling that the bedclothes were trapped in a lump between my chest and my right arm. Meanwhile, there was something warm pressed into the upper part of my left arm. I fuzzily ignored it and blew out of the corner of my mouth in an attempt to displace the hair that had fallen across my face. I thought about that fuzzily too, before remembering that my hair was cut short. I sat up to rearrange the bedclothes and pull my hair out of the way. A few stray locks had managed to become trapped under my right breast. I extracted them and bundled my hair over one shoulder. I thought about it all some more. Something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on quite what. I lifted the bedclothes again and peered downward. Nothing odd there. I settled back into the pillows and allowed the fuzzy warmth to creep back.

"What in hell do you think you're doing here!?"

Elaine was back; a large angry person in a towelling turban. She was clearly exercised about something.

"Um... Lying in bed?" I said.

"I can see that you evil slut! I don't know what your game is, but you've got ten minutes to get dressed and fuck off out of my house before I call the police!"

She'd turned and stormed off into the bathroom before I could gather my thoughts. Whatever was going on sounded serious, so I wobbled out of bed and started poking about for clean clothes. When I looked at the pile by the mirror, I was startled to see Amy looking at me. We both straightened, confused.

The fog cleared somewhat. I looked down at myself and back at the mirror. Amy. Yes. That explained the Elaine explosion, but wasn't I a man last night?

Oh, hang it. I was going to have to get dressed and think this through over a coffee or two. My underwear didn't fit, I couldn't find a bra and my combats were tight in the arse and loose at the waist. I swore and pulled at the drawcord waist until they fitted better.

Elaine peered through a crack in the door as I made my way downstairs.

"Go on. Fuck off, slut!"

I'd had about enough of that sort of talk, and instead of making for the kettle and some coffee, I grabbed my car keys and strode out of the house. I drove towards Amy's on autopilot. For some reason I looked an awful lot like her. For some other reason I felt fine about it. Although that feeling was like a loose tooth that I didn't want to fiddle with too much in case it all went horribly wrong. Mind the traffic, change gear, look left and right at junctions, don't think too hard about the seatbelt pinching your breasts.

I didn't know what Amy's reaction would be when she opened the door. She yawned and held it open further.

"Hi Mike, you'd better come in."

I came in. She led me to the kitchen, sat me down and handed me a coffee.

"How did you know it was me? I mean, I look like you. People are supposed to freak out and stuff when an unexpected twin arrives on the doorstep."

Amy shrugged and made a 'beats me' face.

"I'm not sure. It's like there's something really strange going on, but it's not a problem and I shouldn't worry."

"Strange? Tell me about it. I woke up like this and Elaine had a massive head-fit and threw me out."

Amy laughed.

"I'll just bet she did. Your alleged worst enemy in your own bed? After all the shit she's pulled, it's like weapons-grade karma or the Wiccan threefold thing."

I smiled and nodded.

"It was pretty damn choice. She looked like she was about to explode with hatred, and I was just lying there with no idea why, which made her even angrier."

I leaned forward to rest my elbows on the table and nearly dropped my coffee when my breasts got in the way.

Amy winced sympathetically at my surprise.

"Can I scrounge some underwear or something? I couldn't find my own for some reason."

Amy turned and reached into the dryer, pulled a handful of clothes into her lap and then extracted a bra and some knickers from the pile.

"Here you go. Think you can manage on your own?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I?" I stopped and looked at the underwear in my hand, turning the clothes over as if seeing their like for the first time.

"Oh. Right," I said quietly.

I tried again. "You know, if I don't write down the fact that I was a man, it'll be gone. Ha, I'll forget my own name next."

Amy looked right at me.

"Which is?"

"Miche... Oh, hell."

Amy seemed to decide she was taking charge.

"You go and get into some more seemly underwear while I ring the office and tell them we're working from home today. Then we can sit down and try to discover why reality seems to have wandered off for a bit."

Ten minutes later I was back in the kitchen, looking down the neck of my T-shirt and waggling my shoulders experimentally.

Amy seemed amused.

"Better?"

I looked up again.

"Yes. Much. What did the boss-lady have to say?"

"She asked after you by name, which was odd."

"How so?"

"I quote 'Don't let Michelle get bogged down with the details.'"

"That, as you say, is odd. Oh, hold on."

I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and fished out all the plastic.

"Damn."

Amy craned to look. I handed them to her.

"Oh, I see. MJ Harrison on every one. Where MJ stands for..?"

"Michelle Jane, rather than Michael James," I said.

By now, Amy had the light of battle in her eyes. Whatever was going on would have to give a very good account of itself, or suffer some rather withering scorn.

"Do you have any documentation in your car?" She asked.

I handed her the keys.

"My ID badge and driver's licence are in the glove compartment."

Amy strode off in the direction of the front door. I made for the hall when I heard her return.

"Stop right there," she said, standing with her back to the door and brandishing my licence.

"What's up?"

"It had a picture of Mike and there was a 'M' in the gender box when it was in the car. Now the photo's gone indistinct, but it still reads 'M'."

I thought for a second or two.

"OK, so I'll walk towards you while you keep an eye on the thing and tell me what happens."

Amy nodded, and I walked slowly toward her.

"Right, the picture looks like me now... Ok, stop. It's just changed to 'F'. Try backing up... No, no change. It looks like a one-way process."

We regrouped in the kitchen for more coffee and a bit of a think. Halfway down that second mug my phone chimed; an incoming SMS. I read it, then put the phone down and stared into the middle distance, trying to work out how I felt.

Amy noticed that something wasn't quite right.

"Are you OK?" She asked.

I passed the phone to her.

"Oh God. That bitch. I'm sorry."

I made a face.

"Dumped via SMS. How 21st century. You know, I think I'm actually relieved... Oh, sod. Where am I going to go? And you read the bit about wanting me to remove all of my gear while she's at work tomorrow? I'd better get a van rented and speak to one of those storage places..."

Amy looked slightly put out.

"Or you could, I don't know, ask your best friend if she can help. I mean, not that we've got a spare room and an otherwise empty garage or anything..."

"Oh, Amy. I'm sorry. I was just... I mean, isn't Steve going to throw a fit when he comes home to find two of you this evening?"

She leaned on the table and cradled her coffee.

"Nah, he's off in foreign parts for a fortnight making telephones work, and judging by the way the whatever-it-is seems to work, he'll come back to be only mildly surprised to see Michelle who looks a lot like his wife."

I let a long breath out and slumped in my chair.

"True, I guess. So, what now?"

Amy grinned at me.

"Shopping? To celebrate your newly-won freedom?"

"Shopping? You must be jok... Oh, hell. That actually sounds like a really good idea now," I said, a note of horror in my voice.

"Great scott! It's worse than I thought," said Amy.

"You are so not helping..."

* * *

The following morning found us across the road from Elaine's house. We were early and waiting in the shade of a beech tree for the coast to become clear. It was a quiet morning, and all that could be heard was birdsong and the distant howl of DIY. Until the screeching started.

"Dear heavens. What on earth is that?" Amy was rather startled.

I grimaced.

"It sounds like Elaine at full throttle."

"Being murdered?"

"One can only hope."

A very few minutes later, a woman bolted from the front door of Elaine's house and scuttled across the road. She was quite close by the time she noticed our presence and slowed to a halt. Her trouser suit was either rather poorly tailored or had been made for a man. She looked at us, then stared at her reflection in a car window, then back to us, becoming more confused at each turn.

"Hello. Are we, um, related?" She said at last.

I found my voice first.

"No, I think the reason we all look alike is the result of enemy action. Pardon me for being blunt, but did you sleep with a woman named Elaine last night?"

She looked oddly relieved at that, as if the idea of a particularly warped STD was familiar enough to deal with. She pulled her shoulders back and shook the hair out from the collar of her jacket.

"Yes. Yes, I did. She seemed alright in the bar last night. Bit of a big lass, but not a bunny-boiler or anything like that. But when she woke up this morning and spotted me, she went completely berzerk and locked herself in the bathroom. I scarpered before she called the old bill. I'm Terry, by the way. Um, I mean Theresa, but people call me Terry."

"I'm Michelle. Pleased to meet you."

"Amy. Hello."

Theresa inspected herself in the car window again.

"So if we're not related, why do we all look alike?"

"I think Elaine's mad and full enough of hate to bend reality," said Amy.

Theresa looked unconvinced.

"You're having a laugh, surely?"

"I think we'll find out soon enough," I said, peering over the top of a parked car. "Come over here and copy what I do."

Amy and Theresa followed me to a clear stretch of pavement opposite Elaine's house just as Elaine turned to lock the front door. She turned to see the three of us standing in a line, smiling and waving slowly.

Elaine went bright red and pointed a fat and shaking finger at us.

"Evil!" She bellowed. "Witches!"

We continued our synchronised waving.

Elaine drew her handbag up to her chin for protection and advanced slowly to her car, not taking her eyes off us. She fumbled the keyfob out of her bag, then dived into the vehicle and shot off with a screech of tyres and a sickly rattle from the engine.

"Bloody hell." Theresa was shaking her head in wonder. "That one's as mad as a bus. Madder."

She turned to Amy and I.

"Look, I've got to go home and wash the smell of mad person from, well, me and everything I'm wearing."

"Sure. I quite understand. See you," said Amy.

I dug my own keys out of a pocket as we walked across the road.

"D'you think she'll work it out?"

Amy glanced at me.

"Which one?"

"Elaine."

"No, I don't think so. Self-awareness has never been her thing, has it?"

"True that. So how many men do you think a large and angry woman can sleep with before someone works out that they're all turning into the same woman?"

That stopped Amy in her tracks. I turned away from the front door, key in hand, to see her leaning on the garden gate looking queasy.

"Oh. Crap."