Road Rage

Work this week had been an absolute beast. Deadline after deadline had to be met, meaning I worked overtime almost every day since Monday, but it was finally over. Last thing I did at the office before clocking out was requesting some time off, I deserved a long weekend after this hell. Thankfully my boss agreed.

I sat in traffic, itching to get home where I could just grab a beer, park myself on the couch, and waste all the time I wanted. I had video games to play and movies to binge, the last bastion between them and me was miles of bumper-to-bumper traffic. We inched forward, slowly but surely, and soon enough we were moving at a decent pace. I'd just breathed a sigh of relief when some asshole in an expensive looking car cut me off as he weaved in and out between lanes. I slammed on my brakes so as to not rear-end the jackass. My last thread of patience snapped and I honked my horn at him repeatedly. I doubt he even heard me through the trap music blasting from his car, and he continued his gnat-like route through traffic.

I hated guys like that. Guys that drove like they owned the road, with little if any regards for traffic laws or the safety of others. Who did they think they were? We're all trying to get home! They're not anything special, as much as they'd like to believe that. I was absolutely seething, and my grip on the steering wheel was starting to turn my knuckles white. I tried to calm myself down, but all the stress, frustration, and anger from this whole week seemed to be pouring out like a waterfall. I wished I could put him in his place, show him just how much of an asshole he was. I rubbed my tired eyes and tried counting from ten again.

When I opened my eyes again, I was at a stop light.

Oh god, was I so angry that I'd blacked out? I was off the freeway and in the streets, but I'd been nowhere near my exit, so how did I-

My hands! The hands on the steering wheel before me where large and my palms felt slightly callous. They were attached by wide wrists to strong-looking forearms which themselves were connected to a pair of bulging biceps. I looked down and saw mountainous pecs pressing themselves against a tank top. Long legs, as thick as tree trunks and probably just as strong, stretched out from gym shorts beneath me.

Someone honked at me. I looked up and saw the light had turned green. Scrambling to orient myself, I accelerated more than I'd meant to, unused to the large feet that were suddenly under my control. I drove for a bit, and pulled into the first gas station I found and parked in its lot. I folded my giant frame out of the car. Wait a minute, this was the car that cut me off a few minutes ago. I caught my reflection in the polished metal of the roof. Oh god, that's not- that's not me! I rushed into the gas station and looked for the bathroom. Oh wow, everything looked so different from up here, I must've been at least six feet tall. I spotted the bathroom and made a beeline for it, my longer stride made me feel like I was flying. I locked the door behind me, relieved to see this was a single-occupancy restroom. I walked up to the mirror and stared at the man behind the glass.

Broad shoulders, an arched nose, and big, goofy ears looked back at me. I rubbed my face in disbelief. Who was this dude? And how had I ended up in his body? Why had I ended up inside his body? I wondered while I poked and prodded my bulging muscles. God, he was ripped. Or I guess I was ripped. I dug through my shorts' pockets and pulled out a wallet and phone. "Vince Kutz" read the name on his driver's license. I chuckled with my new voice. Of course this douchebag is named "Vince." I looked up at my reflection. He was an imposing figure, no wonder he seemed to be so cocky.

A knock at the door interrupted my (literal) navel-gazing. I opened the door and apologized before exiting and walking back to the Lexus I'd parked outside. The panic of suddenly finding myself in a stranger's place had subdued, and the excitement of being someone else was growing. I climbed into the driver's seat and plugged the home address on Vince's license into his phone's navigation app. I started the car and flexed my arm. My weekend plans had been drastically thrown off track, but I had a feeling I was still going to have the weekend of my life.