Okay, so be it. Usher has to die.
You might manage through a sing off, but a dance off just won’t work. You are getting pissed though, almost as angry as when that little bastard at laser tag got in your face and called you a faggot.
Wait… that happened to Bieber, not you! Ack!
His experiences are bleeding over into your mind. You really don’t want to know if the little twerp is actually into mansicles; you frankly don’t care.
What is important is getting your soul back. It is obvious that now that you have tried to reneg on the deal, Justin Bieber’s mind and soul are coming back to occupy his stolen skin. Usher is playing sly and hoping you won’t notice that attack as he distracts you.
Okay, that’s it. Usher has to die.
This weak little body notwithstanding, you are going to prevail. Damn it, if you have to live out your days in this skin, by the God you don’t believe in, you will have your damn soul!
“Ok, a dance off it is!” you yell to cover the noise of the tween herd thundering down the pavement toward you.
Usher grins evilly at you. As the herd approaches ever closer, you are desperate to keep the maker of your woes from catching on. You march straight up to Usher, throw your arms around his neck, stand on tiptoe and smash your lips onto his. Just to really drive it home, you shove your tongue in his startled mouth before he can resist or protest. While you aren’t attracted to the guy, it is kind of a turn on that you can’t help notice the twitch from the sadly proportioned anatomy below that you wish was bigger.
Usher finally reacts and shoves you so hard that you practically fly and land on your ass almost ten feet away. The tweens shriek in rage from right behind Usher. His eyes widen as he finally catches on to what you were really up to. The enraged pubescent estrogen horde slams right into his back, knocking him down in a picosecond. Feet slam into him over and over, keeping him from rising. The horde is so vast that they press up against each other, surrounding you in a wall of cooing girls (with the odd male in the mix) as they try to help you up.
Usher is a broken pulp before the horde disperses with your dulcet encouragement and thanks for their concern. You watch in feigned horror as the blob of flesh that was Usher is revealed. Then, turning away, you pull out the bottle that holds your soul trapped. With a final cry of rage, you slam the damned jar to the ground. This time it breaks into glistening shards. Your soul becomes a mist that surrounds you and then enters your nose, mouth and eyes.
By god, it feels wonderful to be whole again!
Now that you have that most important piece of yourself back, you can try to piece together a new life. Maybe you’ll actually learn to sing, perhaps not. You will, however, make wiser choices than you have in the past. For better or worse, you are stuck with this body, so you will use it. It can’t be all that bad, given a ready-made fan base to work on and years ahead of you.