Happy Birthday, Lola! I tried to make this a bit light-hearted as requested, but I'm not the best at writing the funny, but I gave it a shot!
Word Count: 100
Svelte
"You're so losing weight!"
Sam was livid.
Dean winced. He wasn't scared of much, but he didn't relish being in the sights of Sam's fury.
"This is your fatass's fault! Stop recklessly diving for crap when you're near CLIFFS."
"Hey! No need to get catty, Samantha!" He patted his stomach, and looked down in horror: his six-pack was now a keg. He marched to the mirror, lifting his shirt to poke at his fleshy middle. "Sonuvabitch."
The apocalypse had raised horsemen, kickstarted demonic germ-warfare, and even worse, ruined Dean Winchester's ever-svelte waistline.
Sam clutched his dislocated shoulder. "NO MORE PIE!"