It was the 13 year-old Mr. Mendes again—no, Ric had that wrong, it was a 10 year-old Mr. Mendes—no, wait, he couldn’t have been more than 7 …
Ric and Josh shared a look—a terrified look. Evidently, they had screwed something up.
Mr. Mendes sat up, trying to hide his nakedness from the boys. “Hey, Ric, Josh, give me some privacy—” He stopped, as he noticed his changed voice. “What
the--? Hey, what happened to my voice?” He caught sight of his rapidly shrinking hand, and started to freak out. “Hey, what happened to ME?”
Ric and Josh shared a look again. After their last spell, when Mr. Mendes had forgotten them when he changed into a kid, and threatened to throw a fit or call the
cops or something, they had tried to make sure he kept his memory when they cast this spell. Figured that they had succeeded, and now he was panicking.
Mr. Mendes was no longer a “Mr.” by any stretch of the imagination. Already a 5 year-old—then a four year-old—he looked at Josh and Ric’s panicked—yet
guilty—expressions, and realized something. “You!” he yelped in a little kid’s cracked voice. “You did this, didn’t you!” Shrinking past preschool, into
toddlerhood. “You ‘tange me back wight now …”
‘Mr. Mendes’ was now a naked two year-old standing on the bed, with a furious expression on his little face. It was so comical that, in spite of their situation, Ric
and Josh started to laugh uproariously.
“Not fuddy!” little Mr. Mendes protested, apparently having trouble forming the words with a two year-old’s untrained mouth, even if he still knew them, still kept
his adult mind. “I a gwon-up! I big!” This only sent them into peals of more laughter.
Finally, they recovered themselves. “Seriously, Ric, what do we do?” Josh asked.
Ric shrugged. “I don’t even know what we did—so I don’t think we can fix it anytime soon. I think Mr. Mendes is gonna have to stay this way for a while.”
“NO!” This last, a very loud, very toddler, protest, came from the naked infant Mr. Mendes.
“Who said you have any say in the matter, champ?” Josh told him pointedly.
“Y’know, if he’s gonna stay this way, we can’t keep calling him ‘Mr.’ anymore; he’s way too little for that,” Ric said, pointedly ignoring the furious infant.
“Francisco, then?” Josh asked.
“No, no, still too old for him.” Ric grinned. “Little Frankie.”
Mr. Mendes—‘Frankie’—was furious at being ignored, and that the boys did not seem at all concerned about restoring him to the way he was. “You ‘tange me
back!” he demanded.
Josh grinned cruelly. “Oh, don’t worry—I’m sure we’ll be CHANGING you …” he teased.
“No, no, no!” he protested.
“Seriously, Josh,” Ric asked, suddenly sober, “what are we gonna do with him? I don’t know about you, but I don’t know nuthin’ bout takin’ care of no babies!”
Just then, there came a voice from the front door.