You decide that you want to teach this street thug a lesson. You've been interested to see what it's like being a little older, but now you want to be back to normal - or at least a little closer. You take a quick look around to be sure no one is looking, and kiss the ring, focusing on the age of the guy in the tracksuit. Suddenly, you feel more energetic, almost instantly. You take a cursory glance over yourself, try to see what else might have changed. Nothing, it seems. You remember this version of yourself, mostly the same. Maybe a little shorter and with a few less stray hairs on your body. You figure you were right when you guessed this guy was 19, maybe 20. You try to take stock of your mind as well, although that's a little more difficult. Your favorites are still the same, same name, same job. Still gay too; you can bring your boyfriend to mind easily.
But then you notice something curious across the street. The four guys who had been walking with the street thug were walking towards you. And what was more, you realized you knew all their names. Javier, Marley, Thad. And Fries, whose real name you remembered as Theodore. You also remembered he would try to beat your ass if you called him that. You remember when you and the other three guys met him out back of a McDonalds last year and he smoked you all in. His stupid ass was so high all he could talk about was getting some fries, hence the nickname. You also remember you had never done drugs, not really, but the history in your mind was saying otherwise. You couldn't really think too hard about the minor details or a headache started coming on.
You take a moment to look past them and see the former thug, at least 10 years older. Time was not as kind with him as it was with you. He'd had short cropped hair a moment ago; not quite buzzed, but close. His hair was dark, which only made what was missing more obvious. His baldness had spread far back on his head, the horseshoe of hair remaining dipping very low. His skin looked leathery for 30. Not that you could see the fine details from across the street, but the ring must have accounted for some heavy smoking when it aged him forward. He had a much more pallid skin tone, grayer than a man of his age should be sporting. A little paunch was straining the front of his track jacket, and he was huffing and puffing as he chased after his former friends. "Where the fuck are you dickholes going?" His voice was raspier too.
Javier turned around suddenly and knocked him over. The aged punk pulled himself up, bleeding from his mouth a little. "Keep going and I'm going to beat you into a coma," he said angrily, his words a little garbled from the red spittle. Fries slapped his bicep, raising two fingers in a 'get fucked' signal. Thad chips in. "You can't beat anything except that old dick. And we're not interested." Marley throws his arm around your neck, and the five of you are walking off together like nothing happened.
You seem to remember that there used to be other friends, a best friend, but you cant remember his... or her... face. Or any of the other acquaintances you might have had. Just empty slots, a place for the memories to go but none of your old memories to fill them. Thinking carefully, you know these 4 are your only friends now. You knew that you should probably switch back tomorrow, and reclaim your old life before something happens. But for today at least, you're stuck with your... bros. And strangely you don't mind. "Fuck off, old man," you call out behind you. The old punk bursts into frustrated tears.
"Shit... I must be blunted STILL. Where were we going again?" Javier asks. Good question.