Carols body heaved, swelled and darkened as her clothes fell away...to be replaced with a big, billowy dress of vibrant, black and gold Dashiki-patterned cloth. Her hair was darkened, wrapped in beads and masses of dread-braids, then bound in a headwrap of a similar-looking material. Sandles appeared on her feet, joined by pounds jewelery in the form of necklaces, rings, earrings and such. The clothes looked like the outfit...of a native African. She burst out with a rolling, musical cry in her now deep, earthy voice...then cleared her throat and gasped out in English heavily accented by Swahili "Wha' did jou do to mee, Jonella? I feel...I feel so...so very strange."
She looked down ,and swa her body. Under the colorful dress, she looked like a great, round ball dominated by massive buttocks, rotund belly and huge, swollen breasts. She knew she looked grotesque, but...she also thought she looked big, solid and very desirable. She knew it was a lit, but...she also knew she was born and raised in Uganda, and had come to this country and learned English late in life. She'd raised her daughter Jonella, and adopted two white kids (not Zoe and Mikey but now Zana and Michael) and raised them as her own. Memories of beings a white, American woman were warring with false memories of being Karol Merlanda - A large, fat Ugandan woman and the natural mother of Jonella.
"I didn' be meanin' t' makes dat wish, umama!": she cried, notising as she did that her own accent had changed just a bit...as had some of her words. She'd been raised speaking both Swahili and English now, and in faint memories she'd always called her mother "Umama" (Mother in Swahili) and often dressed like her. Her own ghetto-inspired clothes shifted, becoming a very similar dress to what Karol wore...which shouldn't have happened...
Except that now, as her bother was such a different person, and a mother is such an inspiration to a daughter...it did make sense. Upstais, most of her ghettoish, skimpy clothes became Dashiki and Buba dresses and headwraps, as her upraising suddenly became more purely African that Tyrone had ever dreamed of.
All about them the decorations changed, becoming heavily influenced by their new histories. Karol looked abouyt, as wallpaper changed, colors became more earthy, photos changed...a fraimed photo of Barak Obama hung on the wall, along with a print of "The Martyrs of Uganda" (she was a mamber of the Ugandan Anglican Church, wasn't she?) and a painting of a (very dark) Jesus Christ. Karol knew that this wasn't the real her, and yet...she also knew she was a big, generious, earthy woman with a rolling laugh and a love of children. Hadn't she adopted two little Anglos and raised them as her own? Didn't her life revolve around her children...and her kitchen? She looked down again, and was much less shocked by her titanic size. Her daughter Jonella took after her so very much...
The stone had taken the wish - open ended and made at it's urging - and run with it, affecting as much as it could. It was delighted with the rush of energy as Carol changed...affecting both Jonella AND the other two children. At his friends house, Michael Merlanda grew round and plump, as his mothers cooking had it's effect on him. At the mall, now rotund Zana Merlanda was still a goth, dressed in dark, somber clothes...but her now round, well-fed body was now clothed in a black and grey Buba dress and her hair was bound into black braids. She wasn't quite so dark and depressed, as her upraising had been so jolly and loving. On her iPod, many traditional African folk songs and pop bands appeared, along side her Goth and Emo music.
Karol and Jonella calmed down and inspected each other, then the house around them. It wasn't that their true histories had vanished, but inside...both felt almost comfortable with the changes around them. Karol looked at the stone in her daughtes fat hand, and mused "Jou say thees is de ting whut change us all? Mus' be very powerful magic. Strange, I should be frightened...but I feel good. And I'm very glad that my children are zo happy and healthy." she hugged her daughter, then asked "Can you weesh for anyting, Jonella? Anyting at all?"
Jonella looked down at the stone. She could wish for anything...but she was frightened. She hadn't intended on making that last wish aloud, but her mouth had betrayed her. Also, it had taken such liberties with such a simple wish. Though her mother seemed rather happy with the effects, she still didn't trust the stone. Something was wrong here...
The stone - pleased with its meal - tickled the edges of her mind again. Jonella told her mother all about how she was actually a skinny, nerdy white boy, and her mother laughed, and hugged her. That hug was like balm to her wounded soul, and her Umama said as she rocked her "I'd luv jou whatever jou were, my daughter...but why worry about it. Come, lets make dinner together...like we always do."
Actually, they'd never done anything like this before, but once in the kitchen...they both seemed to slid into autopilot. The kitchen was restructured for their larger bodies, and cooking was such a pleasure. They laughed, joked and babbled in Swahili as they worked on the evening meal...
Karyn. She needed to call Karyn. She diled her number, and she seemed to accept that Jonella was her obese, black friend without any worry. She commented about her blond hair and larger boobs, and Jonella said "Dat wud what I wanted to talk wid you 'bout, Karyn. De wishin' stone wud taken fum me, an' Tyrone got 'hold o' it."
"Your ex-boyfriend? What did he do with it?"
Jonella sighed, then said "We'll talk 'bout it after dinner. Wanna come over? Me an' umama are almos' done."
Karyn said she'd be right over, and Jonella clicked her phone off...then wondered what Tyrone was doing right then.
(meanwhile)
Tyrone held the stone up...then looked at the others. there were like six stones here. He reached for the others...and the five that were still in the safe shimmered and vanished, looking for new homes...all defective and having unknown flaws that would infect their wishes. Just like the one he held. He shrugged, then looked at the stone he held. Maybe he shouldn't wish just yet? And yet, the stone in his hand tickled his brain...told him he wanted to...and the stone wanted to play...
