Story Idea: Body Vacation (draft)

Consciousness slowly dawned on him delivered to him on a beam of sunlight which slipped between the curtains of his bedroom.

He had been on a vacation from himself, just arrived back to his body this morning from a three week vacancy.

His mouth was dry, sore, raw, like someone had poured sand down it. His limbs, those that were not numbed, were sore, like they had been punched, or that they had received a good work out.

The blankets of his bed were in a terrible knot, and, as he tried to readjust himself, he felt the resistance of the blankets holding into place. Beside him, on his right side where his arm lay under a pile of pillows, he felt a great weight. The mattress he was laying felt like it was falling in upon itself, folding along the middle, sucking Paul into the middle of the bed.

They had told him that upon returning to his body that he would feel weird sensations, mostly unpleasant, but that they would disappear over the next few hours. Nothing that a good shower wouldn’t fix, thought Paul.

He actually relished the soreness he felt. It reminded him of the burning sensation accompanying a good workout down at the gyms, when you overdid it just that little bit, the precursor to the tiredness one felt along with the satisfaction of being focus and ‘staying clean,’ as Paul was wont to say.

There was groan beside him, and then movement shifting the gravity in the bed so that Paul was not pulled towards the center of the mattress. It was a kind of husky voice, sexless, one coated with the smoke of too many cigarettes.

And then it occurred to Paul that weight under his arm, it wasn’t just soreness, it another person’s body pinning him down to the bed. It was as if a cold shower had already come, washed over him in a wave of sudden consciousness and fear. Paul was a religious man, attended mass weekly. He lived clean, meaning he stayed away from all vices, smoking, drinking, drugs, sex. He took pride in his healthy living.

Not that he didn’t have an attraction for fun, but it was clean fun. Certainly, he abstained from frequenting bars were the vices thrived in abundance, like bacteria in a humid clime. He dated women but not for very long for they seemed to fall off unexpectedly even though Paul made sure to respect their boundaries. Those who did give him an explanation often cryptically told him that he was too nice, whatever that meant.

So who was this person next to him, this being who presence found itself next to his in the bed, was pulling on him. He felt wet all of sudden, sticky, sore, and raw. There was a soreness between his legs he began to notice as if he had been rubbed too hard.

And then another groan, less husky, but still worn out. Another voice, a second person in his bed. If sleeping with one person without the sacredness of marriage between them was horrific, the thought of sleeping with two others at the same time was catastrophic, and Paul began to think that there was already a place in Hell reserved for him.

This was not what he had signed on for when he had answered the ad.

It had been a small ad. Only an inch in length, posted among other tiny ads buried behind the employment pages, tiny, insignificant. Paul liked to skim these ads in the paper, found them somewhat entertaining, advertising the oddest thing.

“Used cat. Missing one toe. Smiles too much. Free to a good home with a flag post.”

“Looking for a lost letter. Written in 1956 by Margaret. Will pay $5.00 reward for its return.”

He smiled wondering whether the newspaper he sold the ads had any type of standard in publishing the same. What would they not publish? He had not seen in advertisements for sex in the paper. Of course, there were other papers out there for that. It was just mostly odd ball stuff.

And then, one day he saw the ad that had attracted his attention. It read. “Want to be someone else for a change? Take a vacation from yourself. Body Vacations. (800) new-body.”

Paul had never answered the ads he read through, but always was intrigued by them, wanting to call them, to find out who it was who would post such ridiculous items, perhaps even to take up the offer for the sake of being the person to buy the chip shaped like Jimmy Carter and Jesus.

And now was his chance. It was a Monday morning, but he had the day off, a rarity who hated taking, but had to as a result of his boss barring his coming into work, “because he simply was working to hard.”

“The firm could use a few days without you Paul. We want you to come back. But we want you to enjoy life a little bit. It’ll be okay.”

“You know all I’ll do is sit around the house fretting and wondering about the accounts. I probably end up calling anyway or stopping by.”

“Well, if all you do is sit around your house, then that’s your choice. But if you call or come in, you’ll be as good as fired.”

Paul smiled at what he thought was his boss’s jest. “I’m not kidding, Paul. Take Monday off, and, maybe Tuesday.” He said it with a straight face which Paul took as not joking.

So Paul ended up waking up thirty minutes later than his normal time to wake. Jumped out of bed and read through the ads and found this ad. Maybe…