Frank watched as his hands grew smaller and smaller before his eyes, his fingernails growing into little claws and brownish-grey fur surge up his arm. He felt the car spinning around him, and he could no longer tell up from down as he felt the floor surge up toward him. Feeling dizziness overtake him, he groaned and blacked out.
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The sounds of little children all around woke Frank up, and he jolted up and looked all around him. He was no longer in the driver’s seat of his car, but instead in a seat on what seemed to be a bus parked in the parking lot of Camp CritterCreek, surrounded by little critter kids of all different species.
“W-what da fudgin’ heck?” Frank shouted, or rather ‘squeaked’. He clapped his hands over his mouth, feeling his fuzzy new paws hit the big buck teeth sticking out of his mouth. The cute little voice the came out of his mouth didn't sound like his own, or at least it hadn't for nearly 40 years!
“Frankie, are you okay?” whispered a weasel boy sitting next to him, who Frank somehow knew was nine years old, even as the weasel boy towered over him.
“I-I fink so,” Frank lisped, feeling his buck teeth getting in the way of his tongue and making it hard to talk right. “W-where da fudge are we?” Frank frowned as he said that, wishing he could come up with a more grown-up way to express himself.
“We’re at Camp CritterCreek, of course!” the weasel boy said with a smile as he ruffled Frank's hair. “You slept the whole trip here, you silly squirrel!”
Frank frowned and looked up the aisle of the bus to the mirror next to the driver, and saw a tiny little squirrel boy with a crisp bowl-cut and huge buck teeth looking back, dressed in an adorable little junior camper uniform that marked him as one of the youngest kids at camp (for some reason, the number six-and-a-quarter stuck out in his mind). As he tried to grapple with what he was seeing, a teenage bobcat boy in the front seat of the bus stood up.
“Welcome campers! We finally made it to Camp CritterCreek!” the bobcat teen said, his voice dripping with forced enthusiasm. “I’m Jason, and all you little junior campers are going to come with me to get settled in, and all the older kids are going to go with Tom over here. Say hi, Tom!”
An older teenager, a beaver who looked maybe 18 or 19, looked up in a daze from a clipboard he was holding. “U-uh, yeah, I’m Tom, one of the counselors here… I guess. Umm… Hi?” Tom stood up and immediately bumped his head on the roof of the bus, making all the kids on the bus giggle as Tom cursed under his breath. Frankie’s jaw dropped as he looked closely at Tom’s face, clearly seeing the traces of his adopted son's face on the older boy.
However, before he could say anything about it, Jason moved up and down the bus’s aisle calling off names of the junior campers, who started to get off the bus and line up outside. “Let’s go, Frankie!” Jason said. Frank jumped up from his seat reflexively and dashed outside with his little backpack, which still contained the small insulated box holding Sarah’s insulin. As soon as Jason came back to get the junior campers to their cabins, Frank knew he had to say something…