Over The Top: Flat Out

"Yes."

"Describe it for me will you?"

I did the best I could and Dad nodded his head.

"I know which one it was," he said, "We haven't done any tests on its venom yet. I think we'll have to start right now."

The tingly feeling was down to my legs now. It moved past my knees and into my feet, then it stopped. I felt fine.

"You were bitten by the "Chimaera Amazonia' said Dad, "We prefer to call it the Cartoon Bug. We have only one specimen left. The other three died on their way over"

"But what has it done to me?" I said, "My hands are like paper cut-outs, and my skin's all flat - my whole body is flat!"

"Do you feel OK?"

"Yes, but I'm dying, aren't I?"
"No" said Dad, "I think you'll be alright. The only thing is, we don't know if the effects of the poison are reversible."

"You mean I might always look like this?"

"I'm afraid so"

I started to cry again.

"I'm fat and ugly, and dumb, and now I have a disease that makes me look like a freak" I sobbed, "I wish I was dead!"

That was yesterday. Since then I've been feeling much better. I've discovered that being a cartoon has its advantages. For one thing, I'm impossible to kill. I can be blown up, cut into little pieces, burnt to a crisp and run over by a steam-roller, but I always pop back to life.

I tried some experiments on myself at home. First I discovered I could stretch myself right across me room. My body is like rubber. Whatever I do to it, it always snaps back into shape.

And I can make Dad laugh. I stuck my finger into the plug socket twenty times last night, because Dad thought it was funny. I sparkled and flashed, and all my bones showed, but I was my old self as soon as I wanted to be. Dad laughed until he was wiping tears from his eyes. I've never seen him do that before.