


Stuffed!
The Eighth Day of Christmas
Five A.M. and Liam was up out of bed, grumbling and muttering as he started getting his suit on. These fucking unpaid internships—they were the only jobs he could seem to find these days, but all they seemed to do was string him along with possible job openings if he showed real dedication to the…

Oh Boy I love carnivals!
I just ran away from my parents and tried to find the wackiest coolest venders that I could. I went into one and the lady said that if I put this cigar in my mouth then I could be a grown up!
I knew it couldn’t be true but I closed my eyes and tried it anyway. When I opened my eyes the lady was gone, as was the entire carnival. The lady was right it made me an adult, and now I’m really loving this cigar. But now I don’t know where I am, or how to find my parents. I didn’t want to be this old or be sent away. I look like a fat cigar-smoking grandpa! Now what am I supposed to do?

A year ago, I was 16 years old. But that certainly doesn’t make me 17 now.
I’m over 60.
And all because I decided to try one of my grandpa’s pipes.
Sure, he warned me, and multiple times, that these pipes were special and that if I even touched them some sort of “curse” would be placed on me the same as was him years ago. Of course I didn’t believe him. Who would? I just assumed he didn’t want me to be messing with his expensive pipes.
How wrong I was.
Well, the curse did affect me the same as my grandpa, and now everyone knows me as his younger brother. It turns out all these pipes’ original owners had some territorial issues and found some way to make sure that only they could be the ones that smoked their own pipes.
It seems that after they had died, that spell or whatever you would call it now turns whoever smokes their pipe into the family member who owned it.
Well, the pipe isn’t an awkward attachment to me like it originally was when I tried it the first time. It’s a perfect fit for this rich old fat guy. But that man is me now, and my grandpa….or, my brother….has never figured out a way to get back to his body in the last 20 years, so it seems I’m trapped as well. He says that I’ll still live for a good amount years, but I’ll do so as this fat old man.
Oh well, I should have listened, but it’s too late now. Here’s to the next 20 years spent as an old, bald and fat, pipe-smoking grandpa.


Cap requested by jmn9661, Story requested by drpepperdragoon
