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Question: Story: Write me a story the way I type about a 6 year old boy with a description of the boy's name, appearance, what state he's from, what he looks like, what he sounds like, and what he's wearing as he goes to bed. Have him wake up the next morning somewhere random in another state in the body of a black woman sleeping on the couch with her boyfriend or husband while watching TV with a description of what the state the boy wakes up in, the name of the woman, her age, what she looks like, have him be older than someone he used to be younger than with the age of the person included, describe the outfit possibly dress she fell asleep in and shoes possibly platform sandals she woke up wearing and accessories and possibly tattoos and possibly makeup and possibly lipstick and possibly nail polish. Please have the boy unwillingly say something to the man he wakes up next to about the man's appearance only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about sleeping only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the man in regards to the platform sandals only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the outfit only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the makeup only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the woman's tattoos only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the woman's accessories only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about how the woman met the man only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something extremely rude and judgmental about the man and his appearance only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about how the man isn't allowed to say anything back to the woman and that she has a right to criticize him but if he criticizes her, it's rude cause he's a man and she's a woman so she can be stuck up and have it be in quoted text. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about being black and have it be in quoted text. Please have the boy unwillingly say something about the state he woke up in only the woman would say. Please have the boy unwillingly say something white people only the woman would say. The swap is permanent. The boy misses his family.
Once upon a time, there was a 6-year-old boy named Eli hailing from Boise, Idaho. He was a pea-faced cherub with a mop of strawberry blond hair, his sparkling green eyes full of a thousand questions. His voice, a dainty warble that made adults smile, sang songs and often called to his tiny tabby kitten "Pepper". Every night, he'd don his favorite pair of Rocket Ship pyjamas, tuck Pepper in the folds of his blanket, and fall asleep to the stories his mum would read. One strange morning, Eli woke up disoriented. Instead of his cool Idaho setting, he was under the dizzying heat of Phoenix, Arizona. His 6-year-old body had morphed into the body of a black woman named Mariah, who aged 28, slept on a plushy brown couch next to a man named Gerald. Mariah was a robust woman with a halo of sable curls framing her cocoa-brown face, streaks of fiery red lipstick on her lips accenting her audacious personality. She had a red rose tattoo peeking from her shoulder and wore a black twist-front maxi dress, adorned with metallic baubles. Her feet shod in platform sandals had nails painted neon green matching her fingers, illuminating her ebony skin. Acclimatizing to this sudden transformation, Eli shockingly found himself uttering words that the previous night’s Eli would never even think, let alone say! He peered at Gerald, who wore an unkempt beard and a worn-out football jersey, and blurted out, "Gerald, doesn't your beard itch so much? It’s like a bird's nest and it needs a trim." One secret about Mariah - she loved sleep. "Hunny, beauty sleep is so essential for vibrant skin," he found himself advising Gerald. Taking notice of his new heels, Eli continued, "Gerald, can you imagine running in these? They're high heels, for heaven's sake!" Looking down at his borrowed body, Eli said, "This dress is utterly uncomfortable; it's like they make clothes just to make women suffer." Eli looked into a mirror, and said with a hint of surprise, "Wow, this lipstick does make me look vibrant, doesn't it?" Touching the rose tattoo, he mused, “Gerald, every time I see this tattoo, it reminds me the same beauty and thorns resemble our love life." Gleaming at the shine of her necklace, Eli continued, "Without these accessories, a woman's outfit is like a moonless night." Sweeping his gaze back to Gerald, he added, "Oh, remember how we met at Tony's Barbecue Joint? You spilled barbecue sauce over your shirt; it was embarrassing yet sweet." Suddenly, an uninvited harsh judgement spilled from Eli's lips, "Gerald, honestly your oversized jerseys make you look like a schlub." Still under the shoe's spell, he advised, "Listen Gerald, I criticize your appearance because I care, but don't you dare criticize me back. It's rude to criticize a lady." He found himself saying, "Being black is a kaleidoscope of color, you wouldn’t understand, Gerald." Seeing Gerald's confused face, Eli sighed, nodding towards the window, and added, "Arizona’s heat really does a number on my hair, doesn't it?" Eli surprisingly delivered a cultural narrative, "Gerald, if white people only could experience what it's like being black, they would think twice before making assumptions.” Despite the unintended rude outbursts and unexpected liberation of living as Mariah, he secretly yearned for his simple boyhood life, the soft whispers of his bedtime stories. One thing was clear; our poor Idaho lad was lost in the body of an Arizonian black woman, longing for his family in his heart. But as fate would have it, the swap was permanent, teaching Eli lessons of life and womanhood beyond his years.
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