The light was bright, I closed my eyes as soon as they opened.
“I think he’s awake,” I heard from an unseen man.
“My head hurts,” I announced sliding myself up on the bed, “Where am I?”
“Some pain and disorientation is normal, sir,” the man announced.
I ran my hand through my hair, but all I felt was a greasy bald scalp, “What the fuck?”
“Relax, Mr Jennings, everything’s fine.”
“What’s happened to me?”
“Get me 20mls of Phenobarbitol stat.”
As the hands held me down and the needle pierced my skin, I relaxed.
“Mr Jennings, everything is fine.”
“Who am I?”
“This time you are an accountant. He did a damn good job keeping fit, you wont believe your new lung capacity. Sorry about your hairline, but somethings can’t be fixed,” the Doctor said as he laughed, “Be more careful this time. We know you have the money, but we are not sure how many more times your brain can handle transplant.”
I sat up and looked myself up and down in the full length mirror, “Don’t tell me what to do.”