Kelvin groaned. He had spent the afternoon working at the museum unpacking a collection of rare artifacts from a recently unearthed celtic tomb to be catalogued. As he stooped to tie his loose shoestring, he saw a glint of gold in his pants' leg cuff. He groaned, they'd probably think he stole it. He slipped the ring on his finger for safe keeping.
Just then, a red convertible rounded the corner drenching Kelvin with a splash from a waterfilled pot hole. He blinked away the muck from his eyes in time to recognize the speeding car with the vanity license plates marked "*QB" as belonged to Rick Hammerschmidt, Kelvin's high school's star quarterback, student body president, and probably Prom King. That arrogant rich bastard, how Kelvin wished he was that lucky stiff.
The world shifted. Kelvin almost screamed as the truck headed straight for him, instinctively he turned the wheel and pulled the car over to the curb. He looked around, and let out a deep breath. He was driving Rick's car. He felt so strong, powerful and hornier than he had ever felt before. The ring was missing from his finger, and he was wearing a letterman's jacket. He reached up and tilted down the rear view mirror. Instead of his grey eyes, a pair of deep blue eyes stared back. His brown hair was now blond. His week jaw, and crooked teeth were now square and straight. He was Rick Hammerschmidt, his wish had come true.
Back next to the puddle a confused quarterback struggled to his feet. He was sopping wet, and his jacket was gone. He felt like he'd just been tackled by a 400 pound line man. He struggled to lift the backpack looped over his shoulder. Where had all his strength gone? What happened to his car? What happened to his clothing? What happened to his sex drive? Was he dead?
The last thing he remembered was speeding home. He drifted into the oncoming traffic lane. There was a truck, but he had plenty of time to avoid it. Had something malfunctioned? Had he crashed?
Rick was always a man of action. His car was gone. He was wet. He had been going home, so home he'd go. Maybe he'd figure out what happened by the time he got there.