"That's impossible!" Mister Lane stared at the obviously newborn foal suckling from his old mare. "She ain't been bred, and besides, she's too old to have a foal!"
O'Manion laughed. "Well, she sure looks healthy and full of milk. And just where else do you think that foal came from? Maybe that punk kid thief dropped him off as he snuck through."
The old man stared at his horse - she did look a lot younger and healthier, as if she had somehow been rejuvenated to be a good mother for this foal. But when had she been mounted? And by what stallion? It was a mystery, but there was no denying the evidence of the nursing foal.
After asking Mister Lane to keep an eye out for the young thief, Officer O'Manion left. The foal seemed very healthy and was the spitting image of the mare - he would grow up to be a fine work animal.
Later that night, Albert Lane was mucking out the animals' stall, and found a pile of tattered clothes, shoes, and a very old-looking medallion on a chain. He wiped the medallion off, and then put it around his neck for safe keeping while he checked out the clothing.
There was a wallet in the shredded pants - not much money and no credit cards. Not even a driver's license. But there was a school ID card for a Phillip D. Parker, age 17. Probably belonged to the young hoodlum that O'Manion had been chasing. The kid looked pretty average, with brown hair, blue eyes. According to the police officer, he came from a good family, but had been in trouble with the law since he was 12.
Albert shook his head. "Damn. What a waste. I wish I had a chance to take over his life. I'd make something of myself, not waste my youth getting into trouble."
Sighing, he gathered up the rags to give to O'Manion later, not noticing that the aches and pains of old age were quickly fading away. As he reached up to shut the stall gate, he stared at the smooth, much-lighter hand sticking out from his shirt sleeve. His clothing felt loose, and hair flopped over his eyes.
Huh?! Lane felt his face, now missing the wrinkles and whiskers. His eyes widened, and he ran from the small stable toward the shack where he lived. Before he got halfway there, a shout came from the junkyard gate. "Hey! You! Stop in the name of the law!" It was O'Manion!
Lane stopped, then walked toward the officer, only dimly noting that the man seemed taller than before. "You have to help me! I found this stuff..."
O'Manion suddenly grabbed him and shook him hard. "What have you done with Mr. Lane, you little bastard?! He was wearing those clothes earlier. If you've hurt him, Parker, I swear I'll break your scrawny neck instead of hauling you down to juevy hall!"
Lane was stunned both by the violence, and also by O'Manion's words. The officer had called him Parker! "I'm Albert! Something happened to me! I found this medallion, and then - I said something about taking over the boy's life! I remember now! This must be magic or something!"
O'Manion scowled. "Magic? Bullshit! I'd have to be a total jackass to believe that! Is that what you think I am? A jackass?"
"But it's true!" Lane clutched at the odd medallion. "Really! I wish you believed me! I can't explain it, but it..." He stopped and stared. The police officer's ears were stretching, and his face was getting dark and hairy.
O'Manion suddenly let him go and backed away. "Albert! I do believe you! I don't know why, but I know it's really yooawwwwwww. Heeeeeeee-Hawwww!" His police uniform burst apart as he swelled suddenly into a healthy young Jackass that fell forward onto strong forelegs. The animal shook off the ruined clothing, sniffed at Lane, then dropped it's head to pull at some weeds.
Lane stared at the donkey. O'Manion was a total jackass - just what he'd said he would be if he believed Lane. And Lane had wished that the officer believed him.