"Good morning new legs! Brand new feet full of dance! Hello four-four magnum love gun in my pants! This model's an upgrade! It stands on its own! Fresh new meat to put hands on! A man all my own! Abdominal tone that could moisten a widow! I love my new cheekbones!"
The mirror shouts:
Ditto! I gave you the custom Hell package deluxe. Compared to this new one, your last body sucks. Read Midsummer Night's Dream? Well I'm clever as Puck. Broad shoulders, strong jawline, I hooked all that up.
"S-S-Satan?" you ask, from the fetal position.
It says, That's right genius, I mean it, now listen: The mirror's a form that you now can't ignore. I'm your only Salvation, get up off the floor. You have 14 new messages, so go check your phone. There's Alicia, Carlotta, a lot of Simone. There's Candy, and Trisha, Felicia, and Angie...
"But I don't know these women. Do they understand me?"
They're fit and they're willing, and they won't break your balls; but do one thing first before making those calls. You'll find parked outside a v12 maserati -- a sleek compliment to your brilliant new body. Within the glovebox -- one more present for you -- in the way of the name the car's registered to.
"That'd be my identity?"
That's my sharp boy! I went out of my way to choose one you'd enjoy. Don't forget that without me your life is fubar! Now take these car keys and find out who you are.
You rush to the driveway to do as your told -- beginning to wonder what's next to unfold. You find in the glovebox registration as promised -- belonging to one:
Howell, Christopher Thomas
"The actor?" you scream, nearly tearing a tonsil.
Hell no, says a voice from the GPS console. The actor is 40, would I do that to you? He's gone gray and balding, his career's nearly through.
"Then who is this guy?" as you ask, your voice quivers.
He's the number one draft-choice of the Washington Wizards. An NBA rookie, he signed yesterday -- 21 year old point-guard from UCLA. A beast on the court -- he's a real bone-breaker. And he's dating that actress from Desperate Homemakers! Or should I say, YOU are, so congratulations! Now to get down to business, I'll provide navigation. You see on this map the bright red destination? That'd be your new mansion. Just too bad it's taken. The real C.T. Howell is away on vacation. He's returning tomorrow, so right now the home's vacant. You've got 18 hours to beat his ass there. You'll let yourself in, he'll arrive unaware.
"So there's two C.T. Howells now existing in tandem?"
Why yes, for the moment, you've got it right handsome.
"So when I confront him, then what's to be done?"
Well you'll kill him of course! There can only be one.