While George grabs a bowling ball and takes his place at the the bowling lane, Colby has managed to yank the socks off his hairier feet. He rolls them up and chucks them into your lap. He gives you a thumbs up and says "Looks like it's finally your turn. You must be glad to be getting out of your dad's body at last huh?".
You weakly smile in return and mutter "Heh, yeah...". You hold the socks in your hands, your dad's hair-coated, roughened hands, and sigh. In all honesty, you weren't excited about the prospect of changing at all, especially into some stranger. You'd grown very attached to your body as it was, it was feeling more and more like your own. It might not be the most desirable body but it was yours.
Colby senses your hesitation at using the socks and frowned. "You are going to put them on, right? Because you've been your dad for about 6 hours now and I think it's doing something to you". He leans over and pats your knee. "You haven't been acting like yourself at all, the real you. It's getting scary how much you've become your father in both body and mind".
Maybe he was right, you had a continuing denial about your husky body, you had developed a taste for beer, your sudden love for bowling, they were all characteristics of your dad. You stare at the socks again, maybe it was time for a change...
Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud and crude outburst from George, cursing out the single pin that remained standing. "Whoops, I better go take my turn before George gets us thrown out for foul language". You excuse yourself before Colby could stop you and tap George out from the lane, the muscle-head still fuming over his game. You grabbed a ball and got into 'the zone'. You've played this game so many times over the years, you had your own ritual that practically guaranteed you a strike every time. After a few seconds of deep, calming breaths, you swing your arm back, ready to bowl. But just as you swing it forward, you snap out of your calmness. Ritual? Years? That's not you! You lose focus and throw the ball straight into the gutter. You laugh nervously and try to play it cool, but when turning around to grab another ball, you can see Colby's new father-like face furrow with deepening unease. However, George was cheering and pumping his fist, ecstatic that you messed up your game.
You try to calm your mind but there was a lingering fear within you, that you were finding it harder to remember what it was like in your teenage body. You were even momentarily forgetting you weren't really your father and that you were his teenage son that morning. Even now as you once again prepare to bowl, it feels like second nature to you. Not quite memories but an imprint of some sort in your mind. If Colby and George weren't with you and occasionally changing bodies, you feel that you might have passed the socks off as a crazy dream many hours ago, settling into your role as man of the house. You throw the bowling ball down the lane once again, this time knocking down most of the pins. It's obvious this revelation had thrown off your groove.
It was Colby's turn to bowl again. He strode up to you, holding the legs of his pants up to avoid tripping on them, and asked "Are you feeling OK?".
You look him in the eyes and shake your head. "I'm not. In fact, I think I'll put those socks on now".
Colby's round face lit up with a wide smile, slapping you on the back. "I knew you'd come around eventually!".
You rush back to the seating area, ignoring the snide remarks on poor performance by George, and grab the socks. Once again, you hesitate putting them on. Was it really so bad being your dad? You shake the idle thoughts away, you know you had to do this. Besides, it would be a confusing mess if there were two dads around the house. You slip the socks onto your feet and slide them back into your bowling shoes. After about a minute, you begin to feel that familiar hot sensation that signified the beginnings of your change. You wait for something to show, like your belly deflating or a decreasing amount of hair on your exposed arms, but nothing seems to happen. You frown and briefly panic but you reason that maybe you were just becoming someone of a similar body size and hirsuteness as yourself.
Colby wandered back to the seating area with a grin, despite only knocking down 4 pins, and tapped George back into play. But the moment he laid eyes on you, his grin immediately dropped back to concern. He sat opposite you and cried "I thought you were going to put the socks on!".
You react with surprise and reply "Uh, I did put them on", sticking a foot up and pointing at the unmistakable green stripe wrapping the sock. "Why, what's wrong?".
"Well, you look exactly the same" Colby said with a bit of apprehension in his voice.
You shake your head in denial and say "But I must have changed somehow! I could feel it happen and everything!". You grab your phone and fumble with it, struggling to find the camera option in the tirade of apps you had installed. Why did you ever download so many useless things onto it anyway? What happened to the days of using a phone as a phone and not some glorified techno hoo-hah? And the text is so small, you could barely read what everything was meant to be without squinting. You finally remember it was the rectangle at the bottom right of the screen, that's meant to be a camera?, and up pops a shaky image of the same old face staring back. Your dad's face, that is.
Now you began to panic. What if you'd spent too long in this body and the socks no longer worked for you? Was there a time limit on those things? Why didn't they come with some sort of instruction manual! You yank a shoe off your foot and frantically examine it, hoping there was some sort of mistake. Then it came to you, you knew what had gone wrong. You begin laughing like a maniac at the mix-up, just as an irate George came stomping back, ranting to himself about his 7-10 split. He sees you laughing and immediately takes offence. "Hey! At least I had a better game than you did, Mr Gutterball!".
You wipe the tears from your eyes and say "No! it's these shoes, they're mine!". Colby and George both give you puzzling looks so you explain to them. "These are the shoes I usually wear when I come bowling, good ol' pair 44. I'm here at least once a week and I always request them if they're available since I find they're the best fit for my feet, plus they have a better grip than most. I was here last night and I guess nobody's worn them since. Bobby must have grabbed them once he saw me come in with you guys. No wonder I didn't change into someone else!".
George's brow furrowed and he said quite harshly "What are you talking about dude? We already established that you hate bowling, you'd never be caught dead in here let alone once a week. And who's Bobby?".
"He's that moody teen at the counter who gave us the shoes. He's a sweet kid once you get to know him though".
Colby looked flustered now. "Don't you see what's happening?" he asked. You shrugged your shoulders and he sighed. "You keep referring to yourself in the first person when talking about your dad. I think you're even getting his memories since none of us knew Bobby's name beforehand!".
That feeling of dread and fear returned in your stomach. It happened again, you forgot that you weren't your dad. And it was getting worse, you were even recognizing things only your dad would ever know, like the bowling shoes! This was getting far too serious now. You had to find a new pair of shoes to wear quickly, even your own pair would suffice if you hadn't left them back at Colby's house. You look up to the gameboard to see you were only halfway through the game. "Guys, I think we're going to have to end this game early and head back...".