“You sure about this?”

Karen’s countenance didn’t change, as she patiently said again, “Of course, guuurl. It’s the same regiment I’m on. Yer all good!”

“Okay,” Monica said, trying to sound trusting, her voice unsteady anyway. “I guess, what can it hurt?”

“Nothing. In fact,” Karen said, through a too-white smile, “it will do the opposite. You’ll feel so much better. Better than you have… ever! At least since we were in high school.”

That made Monica feel better. Not the assurance, the reference to their long-standing friendship. They had known each other since elementary and were hangout friends all through high school, losing touch in pre-social media times as they went opposite directions to university. That’s why she had been so glad to see the little red notification of a friend request, to get back in touch. They discovered quickly that, for nearly a decade, they’d been living only a few miles from each other. One wine-based get together and a common mom-bond was all it took to reignite their friendship.

“Okay, yeah. Good. Let’s do it. So what do I do?”

“Well, first, we’ll mix a couple drops of this—“

“What’s that?

“It’s called Vitiver. It has properties that will improve your overall well-being. Then, we add a single drop of this guy,” she looked at Monica, anticipating the question. “If you can believe it, this is Frankincense!”

“Like, from the Bible. The manger?”

“Exactly. And if it’s fit for a king,” she said with a wink, “but be careful, you only need juuuust the slightest, there we go.” She replaced the cap and grabbed another small vial. “Now this…”

Monica watched as Karen carefully added a single drop of viscous liquid to the mix. She wasn’t positive, but it almost seemed to… glow.

“This is the secret. It’s called Aspvane. Very rare. They have to actually milk a snake to get it.”

“How do you milk a snake?!”

Karen laughed. “Oh, sweetie, no. Snakes don’t have teets, Silly-Willy. It’s what they call it when the get venom from the fangs. I guess they have to, you know, coax it out. Sort of like milking it.”

“It’s poison?”

“Oh, no-no-no-no. They put the venom through a whole process—it takes a ton of steps, over weeks and weeks—until, finally, it’s no longer a poison. Just an oil. But, and here’s the secret, it has a ton— A TON—of benefits. It will literally transform your life. The only reason it stayed a secret is that they just didn’t have a process to extract the good stuff without the bad. But, lucky for us, we live in extraordinary times!”

Monica watched as her friend grabbed one more bottle. “So… so, it’s not, you know, dangerous?”

“Oh, sweets, no. Not at all. I do this everyday. And I’ve literally never felt better. Now, we just need three drops of this—“

“What’s that?”

“This is the most magical thing of all. Orange!”

“Orange? What does that do?”

Karen winked. “Makes it taste good! I mean, if it doesn’t taste good you won’t like taking it. And if you don’t like taking it, how will you ever be able to sell it to your down-line, silly goose?!”

Monica laughed. It felt good, took away more of her uneasiness. I mean, she thought, Karen does look great. How bad can it be?

“Alrighty, you’re all set.”

“What do I do?”

She watched as Karen took out a small glass tube, squeezed the small rubber ball at one end, sucking the mix into the other.

“Just press this, open up, yep, right on your, yep, there you go…”

One, two, three drops. The potion slid down her throat.

She felt… nothing.

Huh…?

As if anticipating her confusion, Karen added, “Just give it a—“

What was happening?!

Monica felt a surge—every nerve in her body was alive with, something… what? Energy? No, it was different. It felt like…

Dissatisfaction.

She crumpled to the floor, her legs giving out momentarily.

“That’s it… it’s working perfectly,” Karen said.

Monica looked up at her friend, and with a gritty, guttural moan, she screamed, “What did you do?”

Karen looked down, satisfied, smug. “I freed you.”

Monica felt her body changing. First, her long, dark hair fell out in clumps. Terrified, she reached up to feel what she assumed would be a patchy, bald scalp. No, something else. Hair. But it was different. It was shorter in the back—like it had been clipper-cut!—and longer in the front, framing her face, with long bang-points aimed at her chin. Her fingernails were next. They grew out longer, longer, but felt different, disconnected from her body. False. And they were covered in tacky decorations, like little fake jewels had somehow become attached.

She stood.

She wanted to cry out, to strike out, but something else was changing. Her… pants? The jeans she was wearing suddenly became boxier, acid washed, the waist-line creeping higher, higher, until it was above her belly button.

She had to move, to see what was happening to her with her own eyes. She bolted from the living room to a closet that had a full-length mirror.

Monica looked at herself, unsure, confused.

What had, how did…?

She looked like… Karen!

“Your transformation is nearly complete, Monica. Welcome.”

“What did you do to me?! What happened?!”

“I already told you, Monica. I freed you. I let out your essence.” Karen moved closer—so close that Monica could smell the Starbucks grande-two-pump-vanilla-oatmilk-latte-Frappuccino on her breath. “That’s what these oils do, Monica. They release your essence. Why do you think they’re called Essential Oils, Monica?”

“You keep calling me that name. Monica. That is not my name.” What was she saying? Monica struggled to fight it off, but it was too powerful. She could only watch her reflection from somewhere deep within her own mind

“What should I call you, then?”

“Call me… Karen.”

Her best friend—Other Karen—put an arm around her, letting it rest on the shoulder pad that had somehow self-generated during the transformation, and said, “what do you want to do now, Karen?”

New Karen looked at her own eyes in the mirror. She could feel it. Feel her purpose, the reason she existed.

From deep, deep inside her—from some hidden, dark place—she said with more conviction than she’d ever felt, “I want to talk to the manager.”