Ricky was only 5 and his parents wouldn't allow him to have any toy guns, so naturally, when the opportunity presented itself. Well, boys will be boys until they change into something else.
Little Ricky couldn't believe his luck. Someone had left a loaded Super Soaker just laying on the sidewalk. He saw a monkey riding a donkey through the living room window of the house, but being five wasn't concerned as long as they were inside the house. His goal was the super soaker which he clutched with both hands to his chest. Just then Steve and Andy the two neighborhood bullies rode around the corner on their mountain bikes.
"Hey, twerp, I thought your folks wouldn't let you play with guns. Better give it to me before someone gets hurt!" Steve says with an evil gleam in his eye. His bike is falling to the ground as he runs toward Ricky. Ricky takes aim and fires hitting Steve squarely in the face.
He stops and sputters as the liquid fills his mouth and throat, and even backs out his nose. Ricky grins, and watches as Steve walks like a drunkard stumbling in semi circles before dropping to his knees with his mouth hanging open.
"I don't feel so goo--URP!"
His hair is falling out in clumps and his skin is developing a shiny yellow hue. His clothing is too large for him. He looks like he's closer to Ricky's age than his former 12 years.