The device emmits a strange orange glow and then sends a yellowish
beam directly at the nine year old Laurel. She instinctively tries to
duck out of the way but she reacts to slowly and the yellow beam hits
her directly in the chest.
"Watch out!' I yell a little to obviously and a little to late.
Laurel just stands there as if frozen with fear, which thinking about
it, she must be. I of course can do nothing and so we both are
standing there like park statues waiting for the pigeons to poop on
us. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds and laurel hasn't changed.
Then Wham! Suddeningly she begins to shrink. Fast. Losing about one
year every second.
She's:
Eight years old.
Seven years old.
Six years old.
Five then four years old.
Three then two years old!
My mind becomes unfrozen at this point and I grab a nearby container
of orange juice and throw it on Laurel, having no idea why I was doing
such a seemingly worthless and mean spirited thing. But, then
something truly unexpected happened. Laurel stopped regressing. Her
formerly appropriately fitting clouthes now in a puddle around her
chubby feet.
Laurel looks down at herself and the tears start. She cries as only an
angry,tired and frustrated two year-old can. That is with an intensity
that would drive away wolves, or pierce the sides of steel drums,
causing even the most ardent of lotherios to consider using condoms
regularly!
I found myself unsure of what to do. I probably should try to comfort
her, but the idea of doing so as a three year-old, barely older than
she was, seemed absurd and ridiculus. But, that crying had to be
stopped! If it didn't stop soon I was going to be unable to prevent
myself from joining in, with some sympathy crying of my own.Then where
would we be? As I was about to decide to go over and try to comfort
her, as strange as that sounded, I began to feel weird. My clouthes
felt looser and I realized that I was growing younger too!
I h