The timing was nearly right. Halfway across the country another Richard was opening the book.
The counselor blathered on, "Richard, I know how it is to be young. You want to grow up right away. But it's time you faced facts, you're twelve years old. Since you prefer to be called by your middle name Richard, which is also your father's name, I am willing to call you that. Now I think what you need is to get some of that Coolidge Colt's Spirit!"
Her mouth dropped. Richard had lunged forward out of his chair, he knew he was changing, but it didn't feel like he had expected. He balanced himself with his hands on the desk, he couldn't stand on his own because his legs cramped so.
Then, in horror as he and the counselor watched his hand began to fuse into a hoof. Had it been what she said about Colt Spirit, Richard wondered. Vaguely too he wondered what was happening to Jason Richard Simon his son. He felt his jeans pushed down by the tail sprouting from his rear. His face started to change, before he lost the ability of human speech, he managed with a twisted smile to say, "Go Colts!" Then he whinnied.