Having a Good Day

Chapter 3

I have now determined that I am a shape shifter. I can’t change immediately; it takes a few hours of meditation. But my changes are right down to the DNA level; I can prove I am someone else through a DNA test! All I need to do is at some time touch a person and I then know their DNA sequence. Now all I have to do is find a way to use this talent to make money. Not being a thief narrows my options down. It is time to meditate on the subject. Oooooommmmmmm

Who do I have to be to just get paid for being?

Elvis has just entered the room. “Ain’t nothing but a hound dog,” I even have the voice and accent down. I just have enough money for an airplane ticket to Las Vegas. Wait till they see me there! “Well folks, I just got back from an alien abduction. I wasn’t really dead, as you all can now see. Here is a tune you have been waiting years to hear me sing. Love me tender, love me sweet….”

That was a quick, hundred K. I’ll hang here a few weeks and then retire. Then it will be another “Elvis has let the room.” I just passed a DNA test to prove I’m really Elvis. His daughter knows better. Even so, she still doesn’t want to fuck me! She said “I know you aren’t really my dad, even with the DNA test, but it still feels like incest.” I then explained about the shape shifting. She then said “So it is incest!” I gave up at that point. She really wasn’t that special. She did tell me that all the time she was married to Michael Jackson she never had sex with him. “I refused to have anal sex with him even if he was my husband. He didn’t want to have sex with me anyway; he only liked to fuck young boys.” So that was my meeting with Lisa Marie.

Not a big issue, lots of women wants sex with Elvis. I did after a time have to do some low level repairs to correct some STD problems. AIDS is a bitch to fix. Any woman except my mother is a whore!

A few million bucks later I gave up on Elvis. The press is still talking about what happened to Elvis. Lisa Maria told anyone that would listen that I really wasn’t Elvis but a talented shape shifter out to use the Elvis name to make money. (Just what I had told her.) Everyone referred back to the DNA test that I had passed, preferring to believe that Elvis had returned from the dead. People still believe in science. It is not that science is wrong, just that no one understands what I created of myself. No big deal, I probably couldn’t do it again anyway. The damn CDC refused to return my post-it notes, even though with them then couldn’t figure what I had done. Their problem, not mine. I don’t have to do it again. I can now alter myself any way I want. No need to anyway, I don’t need to have any competition. Let the world believe I can’t exist!

Today I decided it was time for me to make myself immortal. The process itself is easy enough. I just have to heat the my DNA up and get it to set in a permanent state. Here goes!

My skin is now smoking! Can’t slow the heating down! Looks like this may be the end. Oh no! Here come the flames!!! I am now on fire. Looks like I have stumbled upon spontaneous human combustion! With puff of smoke, and it is to ashes to ashes and dust to dust!

Be sure and await chapter four: Will the wind blow me away? Am I finished forever? Is that a raven coming for me? Does my back room still stink?

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