Glasses

Chapter 2
Don't miss cartoons.

Chapter Description: You know you'll have a bad day if you miss your cartoons!

Rick awoke late the next day. He glanced over at his alarm clock. It instantly clicked to nine o’clock.

Nine O’Clock? I’m missing cartoons!

“What?!” Rick said. He hadn’t watched cartoons on Saturday mornings since he was twelve. Why would he have an urge to watch them now. He pushed the sheets off with a great deal of trouble. He just couldn’t seem to move himself righ this morning.

It was then that Rick looked around his room. Everything seemed much larger than it was when he went to sleep.

“I must be hallucinating,” Rick murmmered to himself, “Wait! Is that my voice?” Rick yelled in surprise. His voice had become shrilly and high-pitiched. He quickly fell out of bed (he miscalculated how high up it was) and ran over to the mirror. What he saw shocked him. Rick though his mirror must have been replaced by a life-sized photoshopped picture, because he was looking at an exact replica of his eight year-old self. His hair was even back at its childhood blond.Although he couldn’t bear to see himself looking like this, Rick couldn’t help but stare. His former pride, his slightly muscular frame that he spent all of high school sculpting was reduced to the scrawny limbs of a boy who hadn’t reached puberty. And speaking of puberty, its effects weren’t even seen on Rick’s body. He had no boy hair what so ever, with the exception of what he had on his head. His legs, no exposed since he must have slide out of his pajama pants and boxers, suffered the same fate as his arms.

Rick was going to removed the comically yet tradegicly oversized shirt, but he decided against it for now.

“I don’t even want to know what happened down their,” Rick said aloud, knowing it was only a matter of time that he’s have to come to face with his shrunked madhood.

“I need something to wear,” Rick said quietly, “I look about Ryan’s age. I bet he wouldn’t mind if I borrow a shirt, some pants and old shoes and stuff,” Ryan said. As he slowly walked into the hallway in his new nightgown.

Rick stealthfully crept into Ryan’s room without making a sound. He was so focused on not waking his son, he didn’t hear the deep pitched breathing coming from Ryan’s bed. It wasn’t until Rick turned around and screamed his eight year-old brains out that Ryan woke up.

“What’s all the racket?” a low, deep voice asked. The man in Ryan’s bed paused for a moment and blinked a few times before asking, “Are you talking at the same time as me, Papa?” There was a fully grown man sitting straight up in Ryan’s bed. It was really quite funny, actually, because the man was tall enough that when he lied down on Ryan’s bed, Rick would have guessed that this man’s bare feet would have been sticking out. And the man’s feet weren’t the only thing that was bare. After pulling off the covers in an attempt to find where the ’deep voice’ had come from, Rick could see that the man was completely nude, with rags laying on all sides of him. It was when Rick looked at the rag’s patterns that he finally understood what was in front of him.

“Ryan, is that you Ryaroo?”

“:Papa? You’re so little like me!” Ryan said.

“No, I’m not little like you!” Tick said, instictively pouting out his lower lip, “Besides, you’re as big as I was . . ., am!”

“Wow, Papa, you’re right!” Ryan said as he observed himself, “Why did I get so big and you get so tiny?” Ryan made hand signals for this. Rick winced when he brought his hands together to signify ’little’.

“I don’t know Ryan, but what I do know is that this is bad,” Rick said solemly,

“Nuh huh!” Ryan said joyously, “I get to be big! That’s good!”

“But I’m a little kid!” Rick said, pouting again, “And I WAS big! That’s not fair!”

“Hold it right there, mister!” Ryan said while pointing his finger at Rick, using an even deeper voice since Ryan was accustomed to imitating his parents by making his voice deeper, “Don’t you throw a tantrum or I’ll send you to your room!” Then he broke out in giggles again and he rolled on his naked back with being belly up and exposing a naked something that made Rick blush, given his new size.

“This is serious!” Rick said. Ryan giggled some more. It was hard not to, seeing as his father was as old as one of his classmates from school.

“Uh, huh!” Ryan said with a smirk in his eye. Rick was intimidated by that look. It meant that Ryan had something in store for Rick.

“I’m the Papa now, um, whats your name Papa?”

“Rick?”

“Oh yeah! I’m the Papa now, Rickie, and you’ve gotta do what I want!”

“Nuh, huh!” Rick said.

“Uh, huh!” Ryan replied, “I’m bigger now, so I get to be the daddy! I’m gonna go get dressed. You can put some ’jammies on and watch cartoons!” And with that, Rick left the room.

What a, I gonna do? Rick though. He really wanted to start crying, but he couldn’t let his son win. I guess I should get dressed. Rick pulled out some jeans and a blue shirt and some underwear. Briefs, I haven’t worn these since, well, Elementary School. Those words chained themselves to Rick’s skull, and sang their meaning over and over again. He successfully put on everything, until he got to the belt. Mastering the skill of wearing a belt was a big accomplishment for Ryan only at the beginning of the school year, and Rick knew Ryan still had some problems with it. Now the tables of irony were turned as Rick spent what felt like hours trying to wear the accursed leather.

“Need help, Rickaroo?” the haunting deep voice rang. Ryan walked in, fully dressed in Rick favorite sliky button-down shirt, a pair of night-black jeans, and . . . a belt.

“Do you need help Rickaroo?” Ryan asked. Rick was getting worried at how immersed Ryan was getting into this game, because before he could stop himself, Rick replied,

“Yes, Papa,” Perfect. Rick had completely submit to his own son’s power. But he didn’t say anything. He just bent down and secured Rick’s beltfor him. Rick was amazed at how fast Ryan did it. Maybe we traded places? Maybe he got my skills too. Its obscure, but there is only one way to find out.

“Papa, can we go visit mommy?” Rick asked with big, pleading eyes just as his son would.

“Let me call the hospital (he said this like an eight year-old, relieving Rick a little.). Why don’t I get you some breakfast and if the doctors say its OK, we’ll go.” Rick couldn’t help but feel his spirits lift. I’m gonna see my mommy soon! Wait, no wife! Mommy, no Glen is my wife!

“What are you waiting for, Rickaroo?” Ryan asked Rick, “Don’t you want breakfast?” I’ll find out yet! Rick thought. If my son can cook, we really did swap lives and ages. If he can’t, well, I guess I’m wrong and having my house burnt down. Thinking of these horrible consequences, Rick still yelled out,

“Chocolate breakfast!” Ryan smiled lightly, just as Rick did to Ryan.

“Alright, but don’t tell mommy, she’ll be mad I let you have two chocolate breakfasts in one week!” Ryan sounded completely sincere. Rick wondered if their age mentality was setting in. Rick felt like an eight year-old again as he skipped down the stairs.

When he got downstairs, Rick wanted to watch his ’Papa’ cook to see if he really knew how to, but Ryan had left the TV on for Rick, and just from hearing the actors on cheesey cartoons reeled him onto the couch. He became so immersed with the show that Ryan had to call Rick twice for breakfast. When Ryan reached the table, his jaw dropped. For there, in front of him, was an even better example of a chocolate breakfast.

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