Metamorphosis

by Rahul Sharodi

    After years of labor, isolation, and soul-shattering hardship, my work has finally paid off. Sitting beside me, as I begin this written journey chronicling my transformation, is a beaker full of hope. When consumed, this potion will lead to a striking metamorphosis that will redefine the meaning of self, as well as my fortune. But without great sacrifice there is no reward. It must be tested. And as much as I wished to avoid this eventuality, the day has come, and the lark of science emits its graceful mating call to me. My only hope is that this works.

     Day 1: No effects so far. Certainly no visible results would show for some time, but after twenty four hours, my patience is wearing thin. I will resume writing my observations at a later time, however, as Walker, Texas Ranger is on, and Chuck Norris fucking rocks.

     Day 2: I’ve noticed a few changes recently. My traditional laboratory pantaloons have become shorter, and warped into a thin all-cotton variety, pink in color with stripes and a black belt. I was utterly shocked. So I tried to calm myself by doing what I enjoy most: putting on my aviators and going out to get some brews. What’s happening to me?

     Day 4: Yesterday, while I was looking for a “Tickets to the Gun Show” t-shirt, the head of the institute called, threatening to cut my endowment, but I was like, “Dude, your mom seemed to like the size of my endowment last night!” He was being a bitch though, and even though I told him “I don’t know how to put this, but I’m kind of a big deal,” he decided to stop funding my research. You know what, fuck him. This is going to be rough, but as they say in Wedding Crashers, “No excuses. Play like a champion.” On another frustrating note, the collars on my shirts seem to be stuck in a vertical position. I know I should fold them down to their natural state…but chicks dig it like this!

     Day 8: So yeah, I was hangin with my bro B-Rad with my bitchin’ new visor, and we went to this party, and I’m workin my game, right, and I’m like, “I’m Rick James, bitch!” And she was practically begging me to fuck her. At one point she was all like, “Wow you’re crazy” and I went, “Nah” and shit. Then “I Wear My Sunglasses at Night” came on and I went nuts.

     Day 17: I don’t know why I still have this log. I’m so different from seventeen days ago. I’m super chill now, and have an 80’s Music playlist on my iPod. It’s not that I’m changing my self-image, it’s just that I’ve become way cooler since high school.

Peace Out,
  Dr. Damien Bagley
   “D-Bag”

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