Brandon had made out of the economic crisis richer than most at the firm. His salary was already pretty high but just the knowledge that he was a cut above the rest of humanity elevated his ego to the point of being unbearable. Other employees were truly beneath him for the most part. Ants scurrying around and he was a true alpha male, a natural born leader. He deserved everything he got in life. All the millions of dollars he had made and spent on expensive suits, car, penthouse apartment, the yacht...he did deserve it.
Of course all those people that got fired didn't find it as amusing but those were the breaks. People have to take risks. Otherwise no one is a winner. Better there be at least some winners.
Brandon was approached earlier by a man trying to form a fund for recently fired employees who lost their fortunes in his schemes. Unfortunately he could give a crap. He sent Mr. April on his way and told him how much he cared, which was not at all.
Brandon spent the day getting massages, and going back to his office to do some cocaine, have sex with hookers, and make some investments. He called the shots along with a few select others and he answered to almost no one.
But when he took a nap in his office, on the spotless furniture worth tens of thousands of dollars he blinked. Where was he? Some...someplace not the office.
He was on hay. He was wearing some disgusting jacket.
"What happened to me? What the hell happened to my voice?" He got up.
"Shane, get the tractor inside and hurry up, we got to get all the animals in before it gets dark. LET'S MOVE IT!" a hefty cowboy told him. He took the cowboy hat off his head. He looked in the rearview mirror of a truck and was horrified to see the face of a simple high school age cowboy staring back on him. He started screaming but then Mr. April was right there looking at him with an evil grin.
"They can't see me. Play it cool. You're in a new body. Your name is Shane Grayson. You no longer have the penthouse. I gave it to, well, the old Shane. He's going to be having a blast. And let's just let go of all those thoughts you had before..." He brushed a hang along Brandon's new head and suddenly all his knowledge of investments and stocks was gone.
"Whadj ya'll do to me? My voice! I sound like some kindah-" He clamped his hand over his mouth.
"You're a dumb hick and nobody gives a fuck who you are. Here's your new set of job skills." Mr. April brushed his hand along the new Shane's temple.
Of course Shane is getting all your strengths. None of the inhumanity. He'll be making amends to all of the coworkers who lost their shirts by starting a fund for them via the company so they have at least six months pay to live off of. Especially the secretaries and temporary office workers who stayed working for your company for almost nothing while you snorted up the rest of the profits. Now get going with that tractor.
Brandon wanted to cry as he led the tractor inside. It wasn't fair. He used to know so much...so much knowledge. He took it for granted. His mind was now far more simple. He knew how to care for cows and sheep. He knew how to bundle hay. He knew how to feed the dogs and corral and sheer and he knew all sorts of things about tractors and harvesting wheat and vegetables...his office days were gone. He wept a silent tear as he got going in his new job.
Meanwhile, that same day...some of Shane's friends were hanging out down near their own farm having some fun. They had been shooting cans and wearing mud as camouflage.
"Yeah, we'll get paid once a month. It's gonna be fuckin' hard, though."
"I know. Wish I could have a good job and wear a suit. Up there on Wall Street."
"Yeah they need to come here so we can apply."
The boys laughed but one of them had done many good deeds that month. Mr. April had tested him, posing as a homeless man in town. Johnny had helped him out, given him directions and even a jacket out of his pickup truck. That kindness would soon be rewarded.
"Hey, how...where am I? Why am I sounding like this?"
"Who the hell are you? Where are my friends?"
"I'm Johnny. Why is my voice so weird?"
"What? No you're not. You're old. What the hell is going on here?"
"Oh my god. What am I doing in this suit? Where did my friends go? My name's Lonny."
"Lonny? No way!"
"Who are you?"
"Gentlemen, allow me to explain." Mr. April said, and explained to them they were now rich typhoons who could easily afford to buy and sell most people.
New knowledge came to them and even though they were older they were happier and felt very comfortable with their new suits and expensive cars and haircuts.
"I look like a million dollars! And I'm way more old and stuff."
"Don't talk like that. People will think you're a simpleton."
"Where do you get off in talking like that? Hey why am I talking like this? Where did my accent go?"
"All part of your new lives I'm afraid. Now boys, have fun getting martinis. You have dinner at a gay social club, very upper crust gays of course, at 6:30. You don't want to be late.
"I know I am. Shit, you fellas look pretty ripe, too. I can't wait for you to get your cherries popped."
"Speak for yourself, slut."
The three formed a plan that night to help out the farming community from which their bodies had come. As they grew with knowledge they also found themselves growing hard at the thought of getting naked with other guys.
Back on the farm the three former executives got the shock of a lifetime that they were to be military recruits. Either that or continue playing in the mud and Mr. April made a fairly convincing argument that they deserved it after their selfish behavior. If they were very lucky and played their cards right, maybe one day they would work their way up to business school but that day was far away.
Mr. April rubbed his hands together. He loved his job.