Blonde Joke Chapter Three by Jeffrey M. Mahr   What do you call a blonde wearing a leather jacket on a motorcycle? A rebel without a clue.

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Katrina struggled to attain awareness without quite making it. There were voices, or maybe dreams, but it was difficult to make out what they said. Instead, Katrina gave up in favor of a low groan and a return to sleep. The next time she woke, it was to bright sunlight shining in her eyes so she couldn’t see, but it took too much effort to move a hand to block out its glare.

“Good, you’re awake.” The voice was familiar, maybe if it continued she’d figure out whose voice it was. Female. It was a female voice. Mom? No. Someone from work? Maybe, that sounded right. A secretary? No….

“Well, open your eyes already,” a someone demanded in a hoarse whisper. A shape moved in front of the sun blocking it out. Katrina opened her eyes and focused enough to recognize it as a woman’s shape to match the voice. With the sun behind the woman, Dr. Issekson couldn’t tell who the woman was, just that she was sitting on the bed next to Katrina.

“Geez, you dumb blonde, come on,” the whisper continued. “Hold your hands over your ears, maybe you’ll be able to hold a thought.” The woman weakly shook Katrina, but seemed to loose her balance and fell over onto her. With the sun in her eyes, Katrina was again blinded, but there was a face on the bed next to her. With an effort, she lifted a hand to block out the sunlight and turned to examine the face just inches from her own. It was her face staring at her and muttering.

“What the hell do I have to do to get you to move, tell another damn blonde joke?”

“You!” Katrina struggled to her elbows. The movement pushed the other woman off the bed to the floor, where she landed with a thud. By the time they both made it to a sitting position, they were gasping from the exertion.

“What kind of hypnotic did you use? I feel like crap.”

“We both feel like crap. Those morons, Dick and Harry, found us passed out in the lab. They must have panicked and locked us here in the biohazard lab. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“What do you mean we paleface?” Katrina’s laugh was cold. “Since when did you start expecting my help?”

“That’s why they call a blonde with one brain cell gifted. Come on ex-genius; use that solitary brain cell before it dies of loneliness. We’re trapped. We don’t know who knows we’re here. We don’t know if we’ll be released. We do know that the people who put us here panicked because otherwise we wouldn’t be here. We either work together or we may die together. Do you have a preference?”

“And how do you know all this?”

“Because I came to a few minutes before you. I must have rolled over and pulled out the IV drip we’ve been on without it being noticed. I managed to wake in time to see that rat Harry walking out of the lab. Then, I managed to roll over again and yank your IV out.”

“Don’t you ever really answer a question?”

“Don’t you ever really use that brain cell Blondie? I saw Harry leave the lab.”

There was silence as Katrina glared at Tom, until she suddenly burst into laughter.

“Now what the hell is your problem? Have you finally lost it? Come here and let me blow in your ear; you need a refill you airhead,” Tom snarled but was still too weak to do much more.

“Well.” The chuckles continued making it hard to speak, “I think you should look in a mirror–or since we don’t have one, look at me seeing as it’s the same thing.”

Tom’s jaw dropped causing Katrina’s guffaws to return.

“The shocks don’t stop there Tommi girl,” Katrina stressed the word “girl.” Let’s open door number two shall we?” There was silence so Katrina continued. “Do you remember what you told me was in the vials we were injected with? The ViTaGeSeM DNA we were injected with was designed to lower our intelligence. What did you say to expect, low normal intelligence?”

The look on the face of Katrina’s new identical twin was absolutely precious. Katrina couldn’t restrain herself as she continued.

“...and now I guess it’s time for door number three. Do you remember what else you programmed our bodies for? What was the phrase you used? Wasn’t it the ‘pleasures of the flesh?’ Unless I miss my guess, you set things up to make us very horny ladies–although, bitches in heat might be a better term. How are you going to like having sex with guys Tommi dear?”

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“Eh-hum.” The tinny voice came over the intercom. “Excuse me. May I have your attention please?” Tommi and Katrina interrupted their current argument to see what was about to change in the last week’s boring schedule of get up, eat and argue. They argued incessantly about anything and everything. If it weren’t for the clock, the only way to tell time would have been the meals. The biohazard room’s airlock would open and remain open until they took out the plastic containers of food and changes of clothes. The room itself had been stripped of everything but two soft chairs, a television set, a portable toilet, a field shower, a lab counter with a sink, and the double bed on which they’d woken up. Shortly after dinner on the ninth day, something finally changed.

“This is Harry Walton speaking. Would you please move the week’s garbage and dirty clothes into the airlock?” The interior airlock opened.

“Why should we?”

“For once in your life don’t argue.” Tommi growled as she quickly moved to comply with the request.

“Thank you Mr., I mean Ms., Brodsky. Would you now please move out of the airlock so I can close it?”

“It’s me, Tom Brodsky. Recycle me out, damn it.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Brodsky, I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you ‘can’t do that’? Open the damn door now!” She began pounding on the exterior door.

“Ms. Brodsky! Stop that or I’ll have to exhaust the air in there until you both pass out.” The pounding continued.

“I’m not kidding. Stop that and move out of the airlock.” The pounding stopped when a hissing sound started.

“What the hell is the matter with you Walton? Let me out.” Grudgingly, against his better judgment, Tommi backed out of the air lock and the hissing stopped.

“I’m sorry Ms. Brodsky, I can’t do that. You’ll both need to stay there for a while longer.”

“How long?” Katrina interrupted.

“I’m not sure Dr. Issekson. We’ll let you both out as soon as we can. Please be patient.”

“Then could we please have some better clothes than these hospital gowns...and some makeup?”

“Yeah, I’d like some decent clothes too,” Tommi grumped as she slumped onto the bed. “These gowns are too much like dresses.”

“Uh, I guess so. What do you want?”

“Some shirts and pants would be a great start. Oh, and how about my old body?”

“I assume you won’t let us out to buy them,” Katrina smiled grimly and continued as if Tommi hadn’t spoken, “so how about bringing us the clothes and cosmetics from my house?”

“All of them? I doubt I can do that.”

“Fine. What can you bring?”

“Uh...I’m not sure.”

“Can I give you a list?”

“I guess so. But I won’t promise to get it all.”

“How about the shirts and pants I asked for?”

“Will you stop already Tommi? Your clothes are not going to fit any more, and if they haven’t given you back your old body yet; they’re not going to. Are you Harry?”

“Uh...no. I’m afraid not.”

“Why the hell not?” Tommi was up and pounding on the airlock door. “I’ll destroy you fools. You’ll never work in this field again. You’ll spend so much time in court you’ll be asking the judge to set up a cot for you to sleep in his chambers.”

“Tommi? Are you getting dumber every minute or is it my imagination?”

The pounding stopped as Tommi turned to glare at Katrina.

“Listen. He’s gone. The speaker is off. You can tell by the absence of the faint telltale hissing sound.” Tommi returned to her pounding on the door lock. Katrina just shook her head and sighed.

Sobbing and exhausted, Tommi finally slumped on the floor by the door lock. For the first time in their captivity Katrina’s tone of voice showed concern. “Tommi?” No response.

“Tommi, please. We need to talk. If we don’t work together we may never get out of here.”

As she spoke, she slowly approached Tommi. Kneeling beside her, Katrina gently took Tommi’s hand and pulled her into a caring embrace. Pressing her head against Tommi’s, she whispered.

“We need to work together, now, before we lose the intellectual capacity to plan effectively. I don’t care what you do once we are away from here but, for now, working together is our only chance to get out of here. Now keep sobbing and let me help you to the bed. We’ve got to talk and we can’t let our captors overhear us or realize we’re planning something.”

Tommi kept sobbing, but didn’t move. Instead, she whispered back, “Why should I work with you?”

“Because they’ve had us for more than just the one week we’ve been awake. Considering how drastic your transition has been, we have to have been here almost four months. If we don’t get out of here within the next couple of weeks, we’ll probably be too dumb to plan our way out of a paper bag. So let me help you up and over to the bed where we can lie down together and talk with a modicum of privacy.”

Once again, Katrina gently pulled at Tommi, but this time Tommi moved with her. Reaching the bed, they sat rocking gently back and forth with Tommi’s head on Katrina’s breast while Katrina gently held Tommi and stroked her hair.

“What have you got in mind?” Tommi whispered.

“First let’s agreed to the conditions of the problem.”

Tommi nodded imperceptibly. If Katrina hadn’t been holding Tommi’s head against her breast, she would not even have felt it.

“Within a month or so the intellectual and hormonal modifications will kick in and we’ll both be vacuous imbeciles with just one prime motivating thought–sex.”
Another nod.

“We absolutely must get out of here before that occurs or we’ll have no chance to ever get back to the way we were.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it hasn’t happened already and you just heard Harry say he wasn’t allowed to change you back. Dick and Harry couldn’t plan this and they are not going to let us out or return us to our original physiques without instructions from someone else. They haven’t done it in the last three months so it doesn’t seem likely that they’re going to do it at all.”

“That doesn’t make sense. There’s no one at this company who would dare stand up to me. Unless.… Would he?... He must have. They’ve got to be taking orders from my father. Shit! In that case, it’s most likely that he feels it’s easier to have us disappear than try to control you or explain me. Oh hell, that means he’s going to really get rid of us as soon as the heat’s off. I knew the old bastard was ruthless, but his own son? Damn! You’re right. We’ve got to get out of here and fast.”

“Then we’re agreed?”

“God help me yes.”

“Then I’ve got an idea, but I don’t like it and I’m positive you’re going to hate it, so bear with me and after I’m done I will gladly listen to any alternative proposals you would like to offer. Deal?”

“Deal–at least until we’re both out of here. Let’s get more comfortable.”

“Okay, but no funny business, Mr. Brodsky.” They both smiled, albeit a bit raggedly, as they slid into a lying position on the bed. They remained, huddled in each other’s arms on the bed for the remainder of the evening. The sobbing was soon over and before slipping off to sleep more than an occasional giggle could be heard.

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End Chapter Three