Mrs. Galeheart picked up the bottle of Baby Perfume, and studied it in her hand. Then she said, "Only 15 minutes? Well, let's see how well it works, shall we?" She sprays the startled clerk with the Baby Perfume.
Mr. Tuttle is coughing and his eyes are watering, as he steps back from the counter in the pink cloud of perfume.
Mrs. Galeheart stalks around the counter, "Fifteen minutes should mean that you'll be loosing a year every 15 seconds or so, little man."
Mr. Tuttle looked up at the 6 foot tall athletic woman in stilleto shoes. He was only 5'6" and he already seemed to be getting smaller. He glanced at his watch, only to notice the age spots disappearing. Well, he had been meaning to rejuvenate himself for sometime now, so as long as he got to the antidote in time, he'd not be reduced to infant form. Mrs. Galeheart either knew or suspected this as she backed him into a corner.
"You know, Mr. Tuttle, you really do overcharge for your marvellous scents. Over the years, I've buried a dozen husbands due to natural causes thanks to your version of "Old Spice". I'm sure I alone paid for that nice new black Mercedes-Benz convertible behind your store. I'll never know why I let one of those men get me pregnant. Still a woman with a baby is like a magnet to certain men. I've got my eyes set on a billionare who only seems to date women with babies, hence the reason of needing to get a perfume for my son. You know he's just entering puberty," she prattled on blocking him in the corner.
"All very funny, Mrs. Galeheart, now enough is enough, I need to get the antidote," the now pimple-faced clerk said trying to break free of her strong grip.
"No, Mr. Tuttle, you have an appointment with St. Luke's Hospital. I am taking advantage of that law that allows you to abandon a child without questions or consquences."
"Oh, but I can, and I will, little boy," she says with a wicked cackle.
"I'm not a little boy," Mr Tuttle protests stomping his foot as his trousers drop to his ankles.
Mrs. Galeheart pulls a disposable diaper out of her purse and looks down at the shrinking infant. She soon as the newly diapered infant in her arms. She wraps him in a blanket and carries him down the street to the hospital. She hands the baby to a nurse, "I'm afraid my daughter and I can't tend to little Tuttle anymore."
She leaves the screaming infant in the nun's hands, and turns to make a hasty retreat.
Returning to the now empty shop with the closed sign hanging in the window, she collects a bottle of the Youth Cologne, and a few other choice sprays. She locks the door, and leaves with e keys from the clerk's now empty pile of clothing, along with his wallet.