It had been several months since the medallion that had wrought havoc on the lives of those poor souls disappeared without a trace. Mari, transformed into Tabitha’s pet dog, was melancholy over the loss of her fine motor skills, her voice, and most other aspects of her humanity, but at least she was coping, if slowly. However, the way Myron was treating her body made the process all the more difficult. It was hard watching the middle-aged man enjoying himself so much, but at least SOMEONE was, she tried to rationalized. 

As he was stuck in the body of a thick, fun-sized, 20-something year-old for so long with no real chance of returning to normal, no one could blame Myron for making Mari’s body his own: straightening his hair, subtly adjusting his makeup style, even the inner-leg tattoo was met with strained acceptance. They also allowed Myron’s new style of dress, sticking to the t-shirts and basketball shorts that he had casually worn as male, adopting a more tomboyish appearance. Physically, Tabitha and Mari couldn’t care less about Myron’s changes- it was his behavior that gave them pause. Mari hadn’t been against having a little fun from time to time- who would be?- but this “New Mari” got a taste of all the attention at the beach party and never looked back on his old, boring identity, becoming a full-blown party girl. 

Myron had caroused through his new lease on life, mingling with god-knows-who and taking god-knows-what, leaving Tabitha caught in the crossfire, often having to get her former father out of quite a few messes, and today wasn’t any different. He had left the house hours before, claiming he had been invited to a friend’s seder. The fact that he was gone before midday and without much warning should have been a tip-off that something was amiss with his story, but Tabitha was blinded by the hope that Myron had found something respectable to do with his free time. Alas, the fantasy of a disciplined Myron came crashing down when Tabitha received a slurred mess of a voice message, forcing her to pick him up at a house that had far too many cars to be considered a “small get-together” like she was promised, and the smell of alcohol radiating off of him was too strong to come from a couple sips of wine. Tabitha was tempted to tell Myron off for his erratic behavior, but she knew even if he was sober enough to understand what she was saying, he wouldn’t listen, anyway; even through the haze, his expression was nothing but unbothered and flippant. 

Tabitha sighed in resignation. At least this time, Myron didn’t go TOO buck-wild. Comparatively. If she didn’t have to locate some back-alley nightclub at 2 am, that was enough for her. If he didn’t need to be carried into the car, that was enough for her. And Myron having all of his clothes on, looking more-or-less presentable after hanging out with all of those hunky guys? That was MORE than enough for Tabitha.