A/N: I really should work on something other than a crack-fic since it's been so long since I've written anything substantial for Psych. Eh, maybe I'll throw Henry some love in a bit, all things considered. But for now, another chapter from my twisted mind.

Summary: People change with age, and not everyone is happy about it.

The two boys sat in Henry Spencer's living room, staring at each other curiously. The younger of the two blinked and held an expression of confusion and mild concern, while the older of the two smiled awkwardly, almost apologetically.

Meanwhile, at the Psych office, Shawn walked in on the one person whom he was sure he would never see again. The man in question was sitting with his feet carelessly on Shawn's desk. He had a charming smile as he tossed Shawn's old hacky-sack from one hand to the other.

"May I help you?" asked Shawn.

The man glowered slightly. "Yeah, dude, I have a bone to pick with you."

"Shoot."

The man tossed the hacky-sack at Shawn, who caught it reflexively. Then the man said, "You've really let yourself go, Shawn. I mean, you've really pudged out these past couple years. They're going to start calling you Fatty Mcfatterson soon...and I can't handle having that kind of reputation."

"I am not fat," said Shawn defensively. "I've just...filled out."

The younger man rolled his eyes, and then pulled up his shirt slightly to reveal a mostly-flat stomach. "See? Look at me and then look at you. I'm like a twig, while you're flab and blubber galore..."

35 year old Shawn looked down at his stomach, which protruded over his jeans. "Aw, man."

29 year old Shawn sighed. "Do us a favor and lay off the snack cakes, alright?" And with that, the younger, slimmer Shawn made his way out of the office, patting Shawn's round belly as one final parting gesture.

Back at Henry's house, eight year old Shawn was still staring in shock at the lanky, freckled boy in front of him. "I can't believe you're me," he said finally. "They really weren't kidding about the awkward teenage years, were they?"

"Believe me, I know," said the older boy, scrunching up his freckled face unhappily.

"It's like we're not even the same kid," remarked the eight year old, and thirteen year old Shawn just sighed and nodded his agreement.