Danny Hoffman moved over to the sink and washed his hands, just as he heard the bell ring. He had a customer ... or something worse.
Always being as careful as possible (in his line of work), he grabbed his gun and turned around to face the newcomer to his shop.
Out of the shadows, walked a pregnant black woman, looking like she was only a month away from giving birth.
"Get out of here, bitch. Your kind isn't allowed here," he spit at her.
"Don't let this body fool you, Danny," the woman said, in a surprisingly calm voice, even as Danny held a gun on her. "I'm no more a bitch than you are."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's me. Peter ... Wagner."
"Peter Wagner? What kind of fucking joke is this? Wagner's holed up in John Wilson Pen."
"I'm out. I don't know how it's possible, but I'm out. And this time I'm gonna make sure I never get back in."
"You're going straight?" Danny asked. He wasn't totally convinced that this woman (this black woman) was Peter "The Nazi" Wagner, but he decided to at least humor her, for the moment.
"Fuck no," the woman said. "And if the cops try to take me down, then I'm gonna take them down with me. You have my word on that."
Danny clutched the gun a little more.
"You don't need that. I'm telling you. It's me. Peter."
"How?"
"I don't know how. One moment I was myself, trying to grab one of the guards to take his gun, and then suddenly I was in this woman's body in a motel room. You have no fucking idea how much I hate looking like her, every time I look in a mirror. But since I don't know how it happened, I can't get myself back to normal, or at least another body."
Danny still looked at the woman with skepticism.
"Still don't believe me? Then how about I tell you about how you killed Jimmy with that buzz saw."
"How do you know about that? Peter told me he'd never tell anyone."
"That's because I'm Peter."
This whole situation was strange. Strange and fucked up. Could it be that this bitch was telling the truth? That it really was Peter in there?
He relaxed his grip on the gun, then asked "Why are you here?"
"I wanted you to give me the tattoos you gave me before."
"Even the swastika?" Danny tried to imagine a black woman with a swastika tattoo. The word "clashing" just wasn't enough of a description.
The black woman smiled. "Especially the swastika."
Maybe this really was Peter after all. Or a seriously fucked up black chick. But, as strange as it sounded, Danny was leaning towards the former, that it was indeed Peter Wagner, trapped inside this woman's body.
He moved in close and slapped the woman on the shoulder. "It's great that you're out. I ..." Suddenly, the entire room filled with a bright white light and when it was gone, Danny found himself somewhere else.
He looked around and saw that he was in a kitchen. A very large kitchen, but definitely one that belonged to a house. "Hey! Anyone here?!" he yelled, but no one answered.
He began to walk, but then stumbled. He looked down and was shocked to see that he was wearing a pair of women's heels. "What the fuck?" And he was equally shocked to see that he was wearing women's clothes as well. It was a maid's outfit.
He pulled the shoes off and threw them aside, and then saw that his legs were covered in nylon stockings, making his legs look matted with hair.
He ran out of the kitchen and then into a dining room and then into a large foyer with a wide stairs leading up to the second floor. Everything in this house (this large house) looked to be really expensive. The owners were obviously well-off. He shouted again. "Hey! What am I doing here?! Why am I dressed like this?!" But still no one answered.
Maybe someone was upstairs.
Danny ran up the steps, finding it a little more difficult since he was dressed in the maid outfit, then ran down the hall, looking for some evidence that someone was there.
He checked several rooms. Some were furnished, some weren't. But when he entered the last room, he thought he spotted someone. It was a woman.
"You thought you could hide from me, bitch," he said, walking into the bedroom. "But you couldn't. And now you're gonna answer my questions. You ..." He stopped, realizing that what he was seeing wasn't a person, but rather the reflection of a person. He moved closer to the mirror and saw that it was his reflection. But at the same time, it wasn't. Because he didn't see himself. Instead he saw a portly Latino woman dressed as a maid.
His eyes went wide and he watched as the Latino woman's eyes did the same. Whatever had happened to Peter happened to him too. He was now this Latino woman, at least when everyone else saw him.
He suddenly felt sick. Danny shared Peter's distaste for non-whites. Maybe he wasn't as aggressive about it, but he was still definitely considered to be racist. And now he was going to be this woman, maybe for the rest of his life.
Danny relaxed his grip on the gun, then asked "Why are you here?"
"I wanted you to give me the tattoos you gave me before," Peter said.
"Even the swastika?"
Peter smiled. "Especially the swastika."
Danny stood there for a moment, like he was deciding whether Peter was who he said he was. Then he moved in close and slapped Peter on the shoulder. "It's great that you're out. I ..." Suddenly, Danny got a dazed look in his eyes. Then he looked around, confused.
"Danny?" Peter asked. "What's wrong?"
"Dónde están yo?" Danny asked, with a clear Mexican accent.
Peter's eyes narrowed. "Danny, what the fuck is wrong with you?" He was acting so strange that part of him wondered if maybe this wasn't really Danny standing in front of him, that maybe someone else had his body, just like what happened to Peter himself.
"Cómo me puse aqu�" Danny asked.
"Speak English!" Peter yelled.
Danny took a breath, then said "I was in the kitchen. And now, I am here." He still spoke with a Mexican accent, but at least he was speaking English.
"Who are you?" Peter asked.
"My name is Sylvia. I am a maid for Señor Hitchcock and his wife." He looked around the room. "What is this place?"
It disgusted him. Danny didn't deserve this fate any more than Peter did. And while he still saw Danny as he stood there, he knew that this person was not Danny, but was in fact a disgusting Latino woman. He hated them so much.
While the maid who now looked like Danny looked around, Peter grabbed the gun out of her hand and shot her in the head, without a second thought. Then he spit on her. "Bitch."
