Mrs. Napper considered herself a practical woman. At sixty-two years old, she had spent decades keeping her little house in perfect order. The curtains were always washed on schedule, the flower beds were weeded, and her beloved golden retriever, Lady, never missed a meal.

When she planned a two-week trip to visit relatives, she faced a problem.

Who could she trust with her home?

After careful consideration, she hired twenty-two-year-old Joel Aiello, a polite young man from the neighborhood. He seemed responsible enough, but Mrs. Napper had her doubts.

"Young people today," she muttered. "Always having parties and carrying on."

She had recently become fascinated with modern hypnosis techniques and believed she had found the perfect solution.

The day before she left, she sat Joel down in her living room.

"I simply want you to care for my home exactly as I would," she explained.

Joel chuckled.

"I think I can manage that."

Mrs. Napper smiled.

"We'll make certain."

Over the next hour she guided him into a deep hypnotic state.

"You will treat this house as though it were your own," she said. "You will keep everything neat and orderly. You will care for Lady. You will be economical. You will think carefully before spending money. You will avoid reckless behavior."

Joel nodded dreamily.

Then Lady wandered into the room.

The golden retriever padded over and rested her head in Mrs. Napper's lap.

Mrs. Napper's face softened.

"Look at you, so pretty," she cooed.

Lady wagged her tail.

"You're such a fine Lady. You're the best, Lady there is. You're a good girl."

Then she returned to the session.

Neither of them realized those words had slipped directly into Joel's hypnotic conditioning.

By the end of the session, Mrs. Napper felt completely reassured.

She handed Joel house keys and some spending money.

"I trust you completely."

And for the first time, she truly meant it.

---

The first day went normally.

Joel fed Lady, watered the plants, and watched television.

Late that afternoon he drifted asleep on the couch.

Something shifted while he slept.

When he opened his eyes again, the room looked unfamiliar.

Not physically unfamiliar.

Emotionally unfamiliar.

Joel frowned.

Why was he sprawled on the couch like that?

It seemed terribly improper.

He sat upright immediately.

His posture straightened.

His knees came together.

His hands folded neatly in his lap.

Something about his clothing suddenly bothered him.

The T-shirt.

The jeans.

The sneakers.

They felt wrong.