Flanz - Rats, Rats, We’re the Rats

Two options: Flee or fight, and faster than the possibility of logically processing the better he chose fight. He made it one step toward Flanz-le-Flore with his metal bat raised when her bruised and battered face turned toward him and a single snap transmogrified him into—something.

Something small. His bat, his jacket, and his jeans—everything on his body that contained even some metal—plummeted to the ground around him, suddenly gigantic, while his vantage became that of an insect peering up through towering blades of grass. But he wasn't an insect. His nose, twitching, stood out in front of his eyes, spilling long whiskers. His hands were pink furless paws. And when he turned his head and saw his long tail, he recognized himself: a rat.

Jay wondered how exactly he could maintain human-level cognizance given the significant differences in physical structure between human and rodent brains, then decided he had better things to wonder about.

***

[9] The Same Wrong Even More Ruthlessly