I headed to the checkout and Rachael intercepted me.“Look! Ice spikes for your boots! You strap them on,” she enthused, shaking them at me.“It’s summer,” I pointed out. “No snow.”“But they’re fun!” she insisted.“No. Put them back.”Rachael pouted and left, only to return with camping pots.“Look! Aren’t they cute? They all fit inside each other like Russian nesting dolls.”“I have those, Rachael. Put them back.”“Are yours so new and shiny?” she asked.“Put them back.”She pouted and left, only to return with a propane lamp. “Hey, Gramps! Check this out! It’s a gas light. Let’s get it!”“I have one. Put it back.”“Fine!” She pouted again. “You’re no fun!”The clerk at the checkout waited. “All done, Sir?”“Yes. And make it quick before she comes back.”“Hey, Gramps! This is amazing! Can you believe this knife has a spoon, and a fork, and a cork screw, and a saw, and a nail file, and a tooth pick, and five blades, and a can opener, and it fits in your pocket! This’ll be really useful.”“No. Put it. She grabs my right foot and starts to mold it as if it were a lump of clay placed into the hands of a potter.Stammering out a few terrified words, I beg her to stop her doings and plead for my release, offering to leave and be not a bother to her.She remarked in a calm voice, looking at the faces of the men that hold me at bay. Then as if to disgrace you beyond all reason, she speaks of how I did try to make her look like asinine in public, and delights to inform me of how I shall soon feel that way and more!Even as I eye her smirking grin, the sight of sprouting hairs spreading around what were my wrists brings on a terrified shiver. It springs forth, and spreads like a wildfire made of brown hairs, moving from the wrists up my arms as a coarse pelt of very bestial hair.Things begin to happen as from sudden cramping of both forearms; that which was once human, were drawn by the muscles into firm toned appendages of an animal. The sensation is one of making me more than scared, but.
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