Does It Look Like I Have Stupid Written on My Face?

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Jake asked the preppy young woman who had come into his shop.

She nodded before sitting down in the chair as Jake went to work.

“Did ya lose a bet or something?” He asked part of the way through.

“Nope.”

“Well, there’s gotta be some sorta story here.”

“Did you ever take Swap Class in college?”

“I can’t say I went to college.”

“I was partnered with this annoyng bitch. And she wouldn’t leave me alone, telling me about how I was doing the project wrong, or I was going to ruin her life or whatever. It’s not supposed to work like that. I finally snapped at her, telling her I should be allowed to make some mistakes here or there; that screwing up from time to time was part of the assignment. That’s when the truth came out. She didn’t trust me in her body. She thought that just because I was a guy in her body that I would be doing all sorts of awful things to her body. I assured her otherwise, then she started screaming things like, ‘Does it look like I have stupid written on my face?’ I woke up with a black eye and a broken arm in the health center. The cast came off earlier this week, and tomorrow is the last day of Swap Class. I’m sure she’ll be very happy to have her body back in a few hours.”