“Wears ou the batteries.” That’s excellent.

“Amy laughed. “I’m not being a movie star,” she explained, with an air of indulgence. “I’m Marigold Amy Yasbeck, my very own self. I’m not ‘on’ – there’s a difference.”
“What are you, when you’re ‘on’?” Berto inquired, honestly puzzled.
“It’s when … oh, heck, Berto, it’s easiest to show you. Hold these and watch.”
They were passing the front of the Café. … There was a good crowd at the tables, inside and out. Amy pulled off the gauzy shirt and handed it to Berto, along with her glasses, and the elastic band from her pony-tail. She took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her hair, which instantly became a thick, glamorous mane and before Berto’s very eyes, Amy transformed. Her posture and bearing changed. She appeared to glow from within, as she stalked into the Café like a panther on the prowl – lissome, dangerous and drawing every eye to her, as if she was suddenly the most luminously gorgeous and confident woman in the world. Berto could swear that conversation in the Café paused momentarily, as Amy asked for two coffees and two of those lovely frosted cookies. She came out of the Café in the same manner, her hands full. She handed Berto the cups and the cookies, took back her shirt and in the same unsettling manner of her transformation, put on her glasses, and bound up her hair.
“See?” she said, biting into a cookie with ravenous appetite. “That’s ‘on.’”
“Wow!” Berto exclaimed. “That was totally awesome. You wanna do it again?”
“Nope,” Amy replied, completely her every-day Amy-self again. “Wears out the batteries.””

My first year in college, I took an Introduction to Philosophy class, because everyone had to take some variety of “liberal arts” in addition to their major (Math at the time in my case; I ditched the theory for the practice once I discovered computers).

The professor was very old, on the edge of retirement, and I settled in for the usual droning recitation of the text he had written (funny how many profs assigned their own works….).

I don’t remember now who or what the subject was, but his face started to glow, and his voice became animated, and he talked about Plato (or perhaps Aristotle) as if he had just seen him that morning for coffee.
Quite extraordinary, and not a daily occurrence, but awesome when it happened.