Prologue

Air bubbles rose from a water dispenser in what we will soon see as an office building. The scene focuses on a copper teapot being filled with such water. The bubbles cease and the pot is lifted by a hand. It is hard to tell if the hand is male or female as the room is still mostly dark with the room illuminated by the escaping light from a lamp in the adjacent room.

The hand lifts the teapot and places it on a gas stove only a couple of feet from the water dispenser. The flame is lit. The person walks several paces to a desk that has its own desk lamp although the room is still dark. Besides this lone figure, the room is empty. It is either very early in the morning or very late at night.

The person sits down, but his features are still not distinct in the gloom. He/she takes a hat from his head swivels his chair and pressed the record button on a tape recorder. He dictates into the recorder instead of typing on the typewriter on his desk which is still mostly in darkness.

He scratches his head and sighs before beginning his monologue. It's a man who is speaking, but his voice doesn't sound like the voice of a man.

“There is an expression used in my city, 'It takes all kinds'. That is what they say. But the people don't know how much more uniform it used to be. The people weren't as 'mixed up in the past. I don't mean the distant past as in decades ago or even a year. I mean the past of the last few weeks. I think this all began a few weeks ago. I don't know for certain. I'm not a hundred percent on anything these days. There were so many changes it was hard to keep up. This reporter was changed too. I'm sure of a few of the changes, others blend together into one. Maybe in some cases, it might have been that my memory had changed, not a physical or mental change.

I had never thought of the philosophical question 'Who am I?' I know I've changed physically; did I change mentally as well? How many small changes have to be made until a person isn't himself anymore? My name hasn't changed, not really. Not my professional name, not my byline. My last name is a different thing. Does it really matter? Is this the new me now? I suppose it is, as there isn't any way back to what I was. Even if I could clearly remember who that actually was. I don't know why I'm going on about this. I'm not the story. The story is the story. It's the story I will be telling, how I changed due to the events I include just to be complete.

Now is the time to tell my story, as I remember it without any more distortions that might have been produced by the hands of time and distance from the actions and events I am about to describe. Memories fade quickly enough and if I don't tell my story now, I don't think I ever will.

Chapter 1

9:38 PM May 5th.

The scene shifts from the office of I.N.S. (Independent News Service) to a bedroom. In the bedroom, there are two people: a tall and skinny guy, Bert Street, and his shorter, pudgier friend Ernie Sesame. They were laying down in separate twin beds that were approximately two feet apart. If anyone cared to look, they would see indentations in the carpet between the beds. It is clearly apparent that these beds are pushed together frequently and then pulled apart again just as frequently.

Bert has a black tuft of hair. His hair is thinning not from his head's crown which is usual for a man his age, but from the sides. Regardless his forehead looms large, separated from his eyes by a thick unibrow. His complexion is light and slightly yellowish. He has dark eyes, a long straight nose, and is dressed in pajamas with vertical stripes and a V-neck that highlights the white undershirt beneath.

Ernie, his shorter, pudgier partner has much more hair and a wider face. He is slightly more tanned than Bert. Ernie barely has any eyebrows at all, his nose is thicker than Bert's. His pajamas had horizontal stripes.

“Bert, want to push the beds together tonight?” Ernie asked hopefully.

“No, not tonight. I don't feel like it.”

“But it's been such a long time since the beds were pushed close together,” Ernie whined.

Ernie couldn't remember the last time the beds had to be pushed together. Neither could Bert. But they both knew that the beds were pushed together often. Despite the beds never being pushed together yet, both men believed it had been done quite often.

“Well maybe after the show is over.”

Ernie didn't have to be asked twice, he removed his pajama bottoms and waited for the top of the hour.

Not too far away, Rob and Laura Petrie were also laying in twin beds. Between the beds, there was an end table with a lamp and clock on it, which made pushing the beds together impossible. Laura was wearing a silky nightgown with short sleeves. Rob was wearing a collared pajama top with matching pajama bottoms.

“It's getting late,” Rob stated.

“Yeah, I guess we should get some sleep.”

“As soon as this program is over.”

“OK.”

Laura wanted to read but decided not to make an issue out of it. She would finish her chapter and then turn over away from Rob and go to sleep.

At the top of the hour, they also turned off the TV. But in their case, the lights were turned off and they went straight to sleep. All that was said was a pleasant 'Good night.'

No one witnessed the sleeping habits of these two couples, but they were vastly different than their sleeping habits the night before. Bert and Ernie's platonic relation of yesterday had changed to that of lovers. They were more like a married couple than the very good friends they had been.

Rob and Laura although technically married, felt and acted more like best friends than a married couple. The idea of 'pulling the beds together' never occurs to them. It didn't seem right,

The exact time when their relationships had shifted was only a few hours ago, although neither couple perceived any change at all. As neither couple would discuss such private topics such as their sleeping arrangements with other people, as far as everyone knew, there hadn't been any change in roles for either couple.

In the morning, Rob and Laura woke from a good night's sleep. Bert and Ernie slept well too although Bert's butt was very sore.

Chapter 2

Kolchak voiceover: “It all began with a swap that nobody noticed at all. A change in the relation of ordinary couples. Lovers turned to friends and friends turned to lovers.

6:37 the very next morning.

'Doctor' Johnny Fever was on the final hour and a half of the night shift at WKRP. He had grown used to working overnight at the radio station. He was an excellent disc jockey. He was one of the best actually, but years of problems outside the station bounced him from one gig to another. He was happy to still have a job and appreciated the opportunity to resume his career after being out of the business for over a year.”

The scene shifts from Kolchak to a record turning on a turntable. Soon more of the scene is revealed to show a man sitting next to the spinning record wearing a navy windbreaker over a dark red shirt. His thick blonde hair and a matching mustache were the most prominent features on his angular face. In addition, he wore sun glassed in the darkened room.

The man speaks. “Alright Tvland, it is time for this town to get down! I am Doctor Johnny Fever and I am burning up in here. Whew, we are all in critical condition babies, but you can tell me where it hurts. Because I have the healing prescription here from the big WKRP medicine cabinet. Now I am talking about your fifty-thousand-watt intensive care unit babies. So just sit right down, relax, open your ears real wide and say give it to me straight doctor I can take it!” Then Johnny started playing the Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the Devil.

Johnny sat back down enjoying the song. The song was a long one, over six minutes long.

Johnny was really getting into the song, saying woo-woo when it came up in the lyrics.

Jennifer Marlowe the station manager's secretary and receptionist entered the booth. She didn't knock, she just went right in.

Jennifer was a very pretty, very well-endowed young woman. She oozed sex appeal that could drive any straight man crazy, including Johnny. She had it and she knew how to use it. That was why she was the highest-paid employee at the station.

The additional light from the hall would have been glaring to Johnny if he hadn't been wearing sunglasses. Instead, it was only annoying.

Johnny was going to complain until he saw who had entered. “Hey Jennifer, what can I do for you?”

“Mr. Carlson wants to see you when your shift is done.”

“Not a problem. I'll be there.”

The Role Swapper struck at that moment. The Role Swapper didn't need its victims to be in the same room to affect a swap. It swapped Jennifer's massive mammaries with Johnny's chest and their hairstyles. Jennifer's blinding bouffant was now atop of Johnny's head, in some ways it matched his beard and mustache. Which would one see when they saw Johnny first, his perfectly styled doo, held in place with a pound of hair stray hair or the beautiful bouncing lovelies that were now under his red-colored shirt. He felt a tingle from his nipples rubbing against his shirt without the support of a bra. This sensation felt perfectly natural to him as if he had always felt that way. Johnny had to pay for the very pleasant sensations in his chest with back pain in his lower back from years of walking around with unsupported breasts. He thought the price was worth it.

A flat-chested Jennifer left the booth having given Johnny the message. Her salary had dropped within the last 20 seconds. Johnny became the highest-paid employee at the station.

Even without her buxom breasts, Jennifer was still a gorgeous woman with many luscious curves. After delivering her message to Johnny, Jennifer looked for Venus Flytrap, the other DJ at the station. She had to give him the same message.

Venus was an African American man with dark skin and a sweet deep voice that sounded exquisite on the radio. He was young, fit, and had a short afro that went along with his short beard and mustache.