Dear Dominic,

There’s no real easy way to go about this so I’ll just come out and say it: I’ve switched bodies with my 9-year-old son and I don’t know what to do about it. Let me explain.

A few days ago we were shopping in a real ethnic, Europeany part of town when we found a posh antique vase store that specialized in selling antique vases. Once inside I spotted a vase that would have looked great in my bathroom and told my son to grab it. My son, being the useless little shit that he is, dropped the vase immediately. Apparently it belonged to a long line of Gypsy witches and apparently Gypsy witches are assholes.

The proprietor of the store said we were cursed with the "Freaky Friday starring Lindsay Lohan" spell, which caused my son and me to switch bodies for an undetermined amount of time. Although I’ve been killing it in third grade (literally killed a kid in dodgeball, by the way), I do miss having a man-sized penis, plus my son has been having a montage-worthy series of hilarious mishaps with my wife and colleagues at work. Without resorting to an act of true love or other things that don’t exist, how do we get our bodies back?

Sincerely,
Someone With Itsy Teeny Child Hands

Son looks at Dad's penis

Dear SWITCH,

Now that is a killer pen name. Readers, this is the type of thoughtful, moderately clever pseudonym I’d like to see more of.

There are three basic types of Body SwitcherooniesTM: twin and twin, person and dog, parent and child. If someone were to tell you they swapped bodies with their grandpa or something equally ridiculous, rest assured that they are fucking lying. Those three, that’s it.

Twins often forego returning to their original bodies because literally no one gives a shit, and the majority of person/dog swaps result in the euthanization of said dog (who is really a person [but dies as a dog]). Parent and child Body SwitcherooniesTM, luckily, have a much higher rate of Original Body Reacquisition®.

The first and most important step in any successful OBR® is to continue living the life of your current body as normally as possible. For you this means to act like the pathetic spaz your son actually is rather than a normally functioning child. Your son should take extended sick leave for work (tell them he has Acute AIDS, it’s super trendy right now) and tell your wife/his mom that he can’t have sex with her for the foreseeable future because she has really let herself go and he’s considering getting a divorce. Or he can start having sex with her, it’s really up to him. Like, you wouldn’t be able to stop him because you’re 105, 120 pounds tops. I digress. Continuing as if life is completely normal should buy you guys enough time to enact step two. Now, step two is actually pretty simple: you need to kill yourselves some gypsies. A lot of gypsies. Like, a Holocaust level of gypsies.

You see, each Gypsy Soul Curse© costs a rather arbitrary amount of Roma souls to both cast and uncast. The cost for the initial GSC© was paid for when your asshole of a son dropped the vase (pronounced Vah-Se-Ut-Ah in Gypsy) releasing a number of gypsy souls. What you need to do now is go back to the antique vase store, find out how many souls were trapped inside, then kill Gypsies at your leisure. It’s best to not go overboard with the number of Roma you murder per day, as police and society tend to frown on genocide.

Roma, as the name implies, are a people often on the move so it can be difficult to track down enough to kill/soul harvest. A good place to start your quest would be to visit any local establishments that offer tarot card readings, palm readings, mind readings, or any other readings that don’t involve books. Roma tend to run these establishments, as I’ve read in Playfully Racist Bullshit Weekly. Another hot spot for hunting Gypsy would be weddings. Or more specifically, big fat weddings. I’m not sure how a wedding can be fat, but if you find a fat wedding you’ll probably find some Gypsies. Happy Hunting!

Dr. Coats

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