"You see I'm only permitted to be human once a month on the day of the full moon and then only between 2:30 to 3:30. I've tried running away, but his magic keeps me trapped in whatever place he leaves me before I change. I've been trapped in a laundry room, in his bedroom, in the bathroom, but this time he left me in the living room, so I was able to open the door," Coach rambled.
"Listen, if you're not Kevin O'Toole, I cannot leave the package. It requires his signature," I explain.
"But you have to understand, you have to help me. You have to tell somebody what he's done to me!"
"No, I don't. First off, I don't believe it, but it's almost 3:30 and if it's true I don't want to miss it. If it's true, well, I've had jerk off coaches before myself. Those dumb jocks who can only get a job coaching PE, not good enough to be actual Football Coaches for the Colleges, Big Leagues or even High School, just arrogant jock bastards who get their jollies demanding regular guys try to be the athletes that the assistant coaches never could have been either. Man, you probably deserved it."
"Well, if you're not going to help me, leave!" ordered Coach Allen.
"Dude, you weren't listening. I wanna watch as you go from hairy macho jock man into some kid's jockstrap."
"Well, I won't give you the satisfa-oooooh" Coach Allen moaned as his hand touched the door to close it.
His knees buckled, he reached out with one hand, and made soundless motions with his mouth like a man drowning might. His other hand slipped from the door's edge and grabbed on to the door knob. His tan blanched into a yellowish white. Fine lines like fabric rose roughly like welts on his now sickly white skin. His hairs began to fall out covering the floor with short body hairs, kinky pubes and long hairs from his head. He opened his mouth revealing toothless gums and spit out 32 shiny white teeth. He pleaded, his body seemed much less substantial. His reaching arm dropped to his side and then he raised it again and clutched the knob with both hands. His forehead began to tip backwards. Coach Allen's head looked like a deflated soccer ball collapsing on itself. He also seemed to be shrinking.
As I watch, Coach Allen's arms fuse together shrinking to form a waist band with the man's forehead. The man's face is now embossed on the mesh pouch and his legs have contorted up and behind him to fuse with his legs and become the leg straps of the jockstrap.
I clap my hands and laugh. "So you were telling the truth!"
"Can I help you?" asks a hostile voice breathing hot air on my neck.
I turn to face a 20 year old guy in a black t-shirt and jeans. He's taller and a lot more muscular than I am. Taking a deep breath, I ask him with a smile, "Are you Kevin O'Toole? I've got a package I need you to sign for..." The clipboard in my hand is thrust toward him.
"Yeah, I'm Kevin O'Toole," he answers suspiciously taking the clipboard and pen. He reads the line where you point and recognizes the company. "Oh, yeah, I ordered that stuff yesterday. I didn't expect it to be delivered this quickly." He smiles and signs.
"Oh, about what you saw," he says handing me back the signed clipboard. He pauses staring at me as if to hypnotize me. He stares hard.
I say, "Yes? You mean the jockstrap hanging on your door knob? I'm a messy bachelor myself, it's no big deal."
He blinks, and frowns. Then he says, "Coach Allen."
"Your jockstrap?" I ask.
"So you remember everything?" he demands.
"Of course, it's not every day I see an arrogant jock turned into a humble jockstrap. Man, there are quite a few guys I can think of that should share his fate," I blurt out.
Kevin looks at me funny and then laughs, "I like you. Come on in, and maybe you can get better acquainted with the coach." Kevin takes the jockstrap from the door knob and twirls it around his index finger.
I laugh, "I'd love to, but some other time, I've got a truck load of boxes to deliver."
Then I bite my lip, and add, "But I get off at 7 pm, I could be here by eight and bring a pizza. You like pepperoni or barbecue chicken?"
Kevin laughed, and slapped my back. He said, "Barbecue chicken pizza, and I've got a fridge full of beers. You don't know how long I've wanted somebody to tell about my powers who wouldn't freak out."
"It's a date then, see you at eight," I say and smile as I go down the stairs. This was going better than I planned.