Ryan was so happy to turn eighteen. All that's needed is a little bit of paperwork and he'll finally be an adult. But there seems to be one little problem on his forms. Okay, one very big problem.

---

The local Department of Licensing office wasn't very large, but it had the sense of self-important grandeur common to government buildings of the early twentieth. Covered in concrete and with no straight lines anywhere, it was quite the imposing structure. It was meant to be.

Ryan wasn't intimidated, though. As he stepped through the front doors, in fact, he felt nearly giddy. Finally, finally, the event he'd been so looking forward to had arrived: he'd turned eighteen. Okay, that meant he had to register for the draft and jury duty, and if he truly screwed the pooch he'd get more than a slap on the wrist. On the other hand, he could vote. Perhaps it wasn't such an even exchange as all that, he thought, but it was a major milestone, nevertheless. He was an adult!

More importantly, though, it meant he'd get his Man Card. Now that was something worth having! It allowed him to build a man cave, own a pickup truck, and paint his face at sports events, among other things. Can't be a man without a Man Card, the saying went. Ryan occasionally saw someone who had clearly lost his. Weak, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt, and usually driving some kind of wimpmobile like a smart car. He hoped he never suffered such an indignity.

But first he had to get his own. As he'd been instructed by his parents, he walked to the office marked Initial Certificates, since he was a first-timer and not renewing, and carefully chose Form 304-A, Man Card Initial Certification. He definitely wanted to get that right, and not do something silly like apply for a Building Permit or a Pet License. Or, heaven forbid, form 8028-R.

Completed application form in hand, he patiently stood in the line marked, "Personal Certifications: Auto Licenses, Marriage Certificates, Man Cards, Voting Registry." He shifted from one foot to the other as he waited, eager to reach the front. One by one, those ahead of him were taken care of. Some simply signed their cards with a smile and left, with no effect Ryan could see. Maybe those were the new voters and drivers. For others, however, it was obvious when the licenses kicked in, a few seconds after they finished signing. Those getting marriage certificates became slightly cleaner and more respectable, for instance, looking like good family men and soccer moms.

And those getting their first Man Cards underwent the most dramatic changes of all. They'd rapidly fill out, going from teenagers to young men in a second or two. One even gained a respectable five-o'clock shadow.

Soon, Ryan thought with a smile of his own. Soon.

Though "soon" turned out in fact to be "quite a while." It seemed the Department of Licensing had truly earned its reputation. And he'd always thought the lunch lines at school went slow!

Finally, though, it was his turn. "How can I help you?" the lady at the counter asked in a friendly, if slightly bored, tone.

"I'm here for a Man Card."

"All right. Let's see your application, please."

Ryan handed it over and immediately broke into a cold sweat as she examined it closely. He'd screwed it up, somehow, he just knew it. He'd marked the wrong box somewhere, probably. He should have checked one more time. Maybe he shouldn't have added Chess Club under the list of activities? That was probably enough right there. They'd refuse him, declare him ineligible. He'd be shuffled off into some other category, like hipster or wuss or–

"All right, you're good!" the lady declared. "Wait a moment, will you? We’re out of Man Cards here at the front desk. The last guy finished off the old package."

Ryan blinked away his self-recriminations. "Uh, sure." Package? He hadn't really considered the logistics of how government forms and such were packaged and shipped. He spend a few moments imagining what sort of poker game might be played with a deck of Man Cards. Now there's a high stakes game for you! Or maybe it'd be better as a collectable card game? He chuckled softly at the images that came to mind.

Soon the fresh, new card arrived. Ryan flipped it over and, with a flourish, he signed on the dotted line. But just as he did, the clerk’s eyes widened. "Sir! Wait!"

He blinked, already finished. "Eh? What?"

The woman was looking at him, eyes wide. What was wrong with her? Ryan followed her gaze to his card and, puzzled, took a closer look. No, he'd signed it correctly. He turned it back to face the front.

"'Mare Card?'" Ryan read aloud. "What the heck is a Mare Card?"

He looked up to see her looking at him in a sort of mute horror, just as the card legally kicked in.

"A typo," she told him as he changed.

---

810 words

As you might expect, this came about due to some online conversation. We were talking about a hypothetical "your paperwork defines you" type of setting, and I wondered what would happen if that paperwork had a typo. And here you see the result.

Further stories in this setting, perhaps even involving Ryan, may be forthcoming. Maybe.