Turning 18 was an exciting thing for numerous reasons. (Now) legal smoking and drinking were the obvious ones, but probably the most thrilling one was getting a familiar.

See, some people were lucky to be born wizards. Magical abilities, special education and after graduation -- a familiar. A creature that would help you navigate your years as a young adult, be there for you as your magic changes and strengthen your powers, of course.

A familiar was a cat or a dog. Sometimes a crow, a spider or some other animal. Rarely wizards got alien creatures for familiars. That happened only three times in history so far.

So, naturally, you were excited to turn 18. All of your friends already got theirs, you were the last one.

The morning of your birthday, you woke up because you smelled... smoke?

You opened your eyes and sat up in the bed. A familiar smell of fruity cigarettes filled your nose.

"Oh, shit, did I wake you up?" a rumbly voice asked. You turned your head in the direction of your windowsill. There was a man sitting on the aforementioned surface. Dressed in a off-white sweater, wired earbuds dangling from the collar, ipod on his knee that was wrapped in plaid pants, a brown leather jacket, a beanie and high-top converse. He also sported a mustache. Was he a serial killer or something? Why the hipster look then?

"Hey, careful there, don't want your eyes falling out on your birthday," the man chuckled slightly at your shocked state. "I'm Frank. Your familiar."

No. Fucking. Way.