The Millionaire’s Bathroom

“Life is about to get a whole lot easier,” I said, my voice coming out in a smooth, effortless English. Not a even a hint of the labored Mexican accent that I had struggled with since coming to the US.

I intently studied my reflection, still coming to grips with the fact that the handsome, well-groomed face in the mirror was really mine now. And this bathroom – the one I had scrubbed countless times on my hands and knees – I now owned it. I now owned this entire house – all of its five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all of its manicured lawns. And the pool in the back. And all of it kept meticulously clean by the housekeepers and groundskeepers that I now employed.

They all came to the US the same as I did, all hoping to find good work – or at least better than what they could find in their home countries. And they all ended up working for Jeffery Allan Goldberg. I was going to help them all out now. I just had to get here, inside of his body, and I did it. And just like I promised, now my friends are going to get new bodies too. Some of them have already chosen who they want to be – other young, successful people in Jeffery’s circle who they’ve seen at the house. A few of them don’t want new bodies at all, they just want a chunk of Jeffery’s millions of dollars, and help becoming citizens. And in my new position, I’m more than happy to assist.

I smiled in the mirror, and a row of shiny white teeth was reflected back at me.

“Yes, Rodrigo,” I said, “You are now Jeffery Allan Goldberg, and life is about to get a whole lot easier.”