I suppose I should feel sorry for him, he is my son after all, but he’s the one who couldn’t bother to be an honest man when he grew up–no, he went the way of all those thugs at his school, dropping out, smoking cigars, getting tattoos, theft, drugs–such a disappointment. But I gave him a chance–I let him stay the night, but was sure to point out the new gold statue I’d picked up on my last business trip to China.

Sure enough, the next morning, he was gone, and so was the statue. Of course, the statue wasn’t just any statue–I’d saved a wealthy client of mine from a business scam, and as thanks, he’d given me one of his family’s treasures–a way to swap ages with someone. I mean, my Chinese is a bit poor, I’ll admit, and I had him repeat it several times to make sure, but that’s what he said. Well, I’m getting on in years, and I can make better use of his years than he will.


Fuck–what the fuck happened? I was this fuckin’ rich ass businessman and now I’m some fat fucking truck driver? That’s not the way that fucking statue was supposed to work! It was supposed to switch our ages, not our fucking lives. Fuck, I need a cigar–oh fuck, that’s better, mellowin’ me out. I gotta find my son, I gotta set this right. I’m gonna get that fucking statue back if I have to steal it myself.

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