Carefully

This is a strange situation you find yourself in and you wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t happening to you. If you want his help, you’re going to have to get him to believe the impossible.

“Chuck, it’s me, John,” you begin. As you relay what you know about your situation, his expression doesn’t budge from skepticism. “...and that’s why I contacted you,” you finish someone lamely.

A few seconds pass in silence and you find yourself fidgeting under his glare. You also try not to let your own eyes stray too far from his face: At least one of those vacation photos seemed to hint at a sizable bulge that you can’t help but imagine.

“How do I know you’re really John?” he finally asks.

You’ve seen enough fantasy shows to have anticipated this question, and you know the exact memory to share. “Remember, in kindergarten, when I peed myself at recess, and you pushed me into the mud puddle so I could go to the nurse for a change of clothes without anyone knowing why?” His eyes widen at how quickly you had that answer ready and you can’t help but give a most unlady-like snort. “Come on, that’s the first question that anyone asks in these situations.”

He looks at you for a few more moments before he sighs. “Okay, say I do believe you. Why should I help you?”

Now this was even more delicate….