Seeking Solace

He's taken five showers, three bubble baths, and bathed in tomato juice. He's out of hot water, his fingers and toes look like prunes, and he smells like spaghetti, but it hasn't helped. Nothing's helped.

He's flipped through every single one of his science books, checking to see if this a common side effect that will wear off in a couple of days, or if there's an antidote of some kind. But none of them say anything about this.

Maybe he's the first person in the world to have ever done this to himself. That would be about his luck.

"Murphy's Law," they call it. "Anything that can go wrong, will." He's surprised they're not calling it "Drakken's Law" by now.

But he stays calm, stays cool, stays collected - okay, no, not really. He runs around his lair for about twenty minutes, screaming for a medic before realizing he actually feels okay. It doesn't hurt; he doesn't feel sick. But it's very, very - he squints at himself in the mirror - unnerving. Maybe even a little bit scary.

There's only one thing left to do. He snatches up the phone and dials a number he knows by heart.

The phone rings and rings, and for a scarifying second, he wonders if she's not home. Maybe she's out playing Bingo with her friends - no, Wednesday is her Bingo night, and that's not till tomorrow.

"Lipsky residence," says the voice on the other end of the line.

"Hi, Mama." He hasn't called her that since his pre-puberty days; it sounds babyish. Right now, though, he doesn't care how much like a baby he sounds. He needs his mama. "It's me."

"Drewbie!" Her voice goes up a full octave. "How are you, honey?"

How are you? Sheesh, how is he supposed to answer that?

"Not. . . not too good," he finally mumbles. He hears her gasp and quickly adds, "I'm not sick, Mother. I'm not hurt. I just - something - something happened."

"What kind of something?" she asks. Her voice is soft, concerned. It makes him feel safe. Like when he was in third grade and he would cry out for her in the night - he had a lot of nightmares that year.

"Well, I was trying something - in the lab - and I guess something went a little bit wrong and I don't know exactly what happened but maybe it'll wear off soon and I don't know if there's anything you can do about it because even my books don't say anything about it but could you maybe come on over I don't wanna be alone!" He splatters it all out in one big blurt, and he hears his own voice get higher and higher.

"Drewbie, you lost me, pumpkin." Mother sounds kind of amused, but still worried. "What are you saying here?"

He shudders a little. Pumpkin isn't exactly the fruit he's resembling right now. "Bottom line?"

"Yes."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Mother, I'm blue. And it's not coming off."

She says she'll be right over.