“It's okay, Mr. Boron. My hands are better.” Tom held them out for inspection.
Mr. Boron checked Tom's hands, front and back. “Impossible. You spilled sulfuric acid. Your shirtsleeves are half eaten away so should the skin on your wrists and forearms, but they're not. You splashed sulfuric acid on your shirt and pants. Your clothes have the holes to prove it, yet you have no burns. How is that possible?”
“Somebody watered down the acid?” Tom suggested.
Mr. Boron issued the final word on spilled sulfuric acid. “Nonsense. Head down to the nurse's office this instant, young man. Tell her what happened. Go.”
It was the final word for Tom Stone. He padded down the hall out of the science wing headed for the front entrance of Claymore High School in the tiny town of the same name located a few miles northeast of Madison, Wisconsin. The year was 1952. Tom preferred to stay until graduation, but he knew from experience that Miss Atkins, the school nurse, would ask too many questions. She was inquisitive that way. Meanwhile, Mr. Boron would research the possibilities for the instant healing from acid burns. Sooner or later he would run across rumors of shapeshifters walking the earth and men in black.
Back home, Snipgridixz removed his wet clothes and shifted his Tom Stone body in the female direction. Small teenage boobs popped out on his chest. Strange things happened down below. Since she lacked clothes appropriate to a teenage girl, Snipgridixz changed into one of her “Grandma” outfits and morphed into her sixty-something Grandma persona. Her boobs sagged, her hips spread, her knees bent low and her old lady clothes fit. Her hair turned gray and frizzy, her face wrinkled. “Perfect,” Snipgridixz said.
On the way out, she couldn't help but notice the black 1951 Dodge sedan cruise into the parking lot. Four tall thin men stepped out. They wore black suits, white shirts, black neck ties, black shoes and black hats. They had covered their eyes with sunglasses. “Excuse me, ma'am,” shouted one of the men. “Have you seen this young man. He lives in this apartment complex.”
Snipgridixz Grandma stepped close to the men. She smiled to reveal cracked teeth and receding gums with many gaps. “I know the boy. He should be in school at this time of day.” Her words included enough spittle to spot the closest man's sunglasses.
The men gagged on Grandma's breath. “Thanks, ma'am.” The men shuffled into the apartment building.
Snipgridixz Grandma drove off in the direction of the afternoon sun. She glanced at the empty seat next to her. “Don't worry, dear, you're so pretty and Grandma will buy new outfits for when you begin high school in our new hometown in Arizona.”
THE END
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