"Hey, Chico!" said a familiar voice as a huge hand clamped down on Chad's neck.
Chad tried to pull free, but his now tiny body was no match for the big strong guy holding him. He twisted his
neck and forced his eyes to see who was holding him. And who was calling him boy in Spanish. His eyes widened
as he recognized his own arm and body and face at the end of the hand holding him. Well, it was his old body
and face. He didn't know who was wearing it. Chico? Oh, no.
"Oh, no!" Chad gasped.
"That's right, Chico, but I'm goin' be a whole lot nicer to you than you were to me," said the new Chad. "In
fact, since you're a homeless street kid, I'm going to give you a home. Remember last fall when you made me
clean out the kennel behind your garage?"
Chad remembered. He swallowed hard. It had stood empty for months after his dog died. It was still empty.
"I decided you'll be my new dog, Chico. And if you try anything, well, remember you are Chico now. One call
to ICE and you are on the first bus to Mexico. And if you are a good perrito, Chico, I may just give ya back
this body- when I'm done with it."
Chad-Chico spent the night naked with a dog collar around his neck locked in the dog kennel behind his garage.
In the house upstairs, the former Chico slept sounding in Chad's nice warm soft bed.