A fly buzzed past Professor Prince as he filled a syringe with a green concoction.

 

“Shoo,” he said. “Pesky things.”

 

The sight of the needle made his stomach churn. He gulped, then stuck it into his arm.

 

Instant nausea sent the professor staggering after his chair. But as he reached for it the chair only grew further away. As the queasiness took hold, he collapsed to the floor.

 

He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but when he woke up his head throbbed.

 

“What did I do wrong?” He got to his feet, the world around him covered in a gray haze. “Did I shrink myself?”

 

As the world around him came into focus his heart sank.

 

He looked down at his hands to discover they'd turned green. His legs, too!

 

“The frog DNA was supposed to enhance my leg strength, not turn me into a frog!” He leapt to his feet. “I'm going to get my funding pulled for this! Where is Amanda?”

 

* * *

 

As the clock, far out of reach, continued to tick, the professor felt his stomach start to gurgle.

 

“Not this again,” he said. “I can't cope with another transformation.” A second gurgle made things clearer. “What do frogs eat?”

 

The fly buzzed past him again before landing on the edge of his microscope.

 

An urge took over. The professor felt as if he were about to hurl but instead watched as his tongue launched from his mouth, nearly missing the fly. The red arrow snapped back as quickly as it'd launched out.

 

“I suppose it's only natural,” he said. “I must take into account that my appetite is vastly different from where it was this morning.”

His eyes scanned the room, the constant buzz directing his gaze.

 

He spotted it, this time perched on the edge of the centrifuge.

 

“Got ya.”

 

He hopped up onto his chair and then to his desk, his meal seemingly unaware of his prowling. After waiting to see if the fly had any intention of taking off, he lashed out his tongue. He was almost there... and the fly got away. This time, however, his tongue didn't come back; instead, he discovered he'd got it stuck to the top of the machine. He made his way over, feeling pathetic for his misfortune, and hungry.

 

He tried to climb up the side of the machine, using the dials on the base to prop him up, only for his foot to slip.

 

“Oh no.”

 

The machine came to life and sent the professor flying around the room in a chaotic circle. After what felt like a hundred rotations, he found himself flying across the room with the most volatile headache.

 

As he soared he spotted his prey. Instincts kicked in and the arrow shot out.

 

It didn't taste like chicken. At least, not like good chicken.

 

An hour later, his assistant arrived. He watched as Amanda removed her leather jacket and put on her white lab coat.

 

“Professor Prince?” she said. “Professor, are you here?”

 

“Over here,” he replied.

 

“Over where?”

 

“Here. On the table.”

 

Amanda walked past him, and he repeated his location.

 

“Professor?”

 

“I seem to have gotten myself into quite a pickle.”

 

“I can see that. Will you turn human again if I kiss you?”

 

“What? No. That's absurd. Why would you even ask that?”

 

“The fairy tales. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

 

“I mean, it couldn't hurt.”

 

“It's too late. The moment has passed.”

 

“Fair enough,” he replied. “I think I know what I did wrong. Together we can fix this.”

 

“Just tell me what to do, and I'll get you back to your old self.”

 

“I'm not that old, am I?”

 

“That's not what I... never mind. What do you want me to do first?”

 

“Let’s first finish the leg strength potion. My investors want the original product. That's our priority. My condition comes second.”

 

The emerald scientist looked on as his assistant poured the blue vial into the bubbling yellow on the burner. The two colors swirled together, turning the concoction... purple?

 

“This isn't right,” said the professor. “Last time, it turned green.”

 

“Then maybe this is right,” replied Amanda. “Considering what happened the last time. We're also using my blood, not yours.”

“You're not wrong. Very well, carry on.”

 

Amanda continued the elaborate procedure for the “Power Potion”.

 

“Maybe after this we can make a 'Prince Potion'. You know, because of your name and the fact that it would—”

 

“I get the joke, Amanda. Please, let's focus.”

 

After spinning a vial of the purple liquid in a centrifuge, the sight of which gave the professor a headache, she was able to separate the plasma, which had turned light blue in the process, from her blood.

 

“Will it work?” she asked.

 

“Your hands are steadier than mine,” he replied. “I have the utmost confidence in your abilities. Place the plasma into a syringe when you're ready.”

The Professor closed his eyes as Amanda held the needle. He'd tested the “potion” on his blood cells under a microscope numerous times with continued success before trying it on himself. It should've worked. Surely, Amanda had gotten it right.

 

“Are you sure this will work?” asked Amanda.

 

“There's only one way to find out.”

 

He watched as she placed the needle into her arm. He gritted his teeth as she pushed down. The light blue plasma entered her veins.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Are we going to be funded in the coming Fall?”

 

“I feel funny,” replied Amanda. “How am I supposed to feel?”

 

“That's a good question. I guess funny isn't a bad sign. Turning into a frog would be a....”

 

He looked on as Amanda's head shrunk into her shoulders. Her limbs sprang in toward her body.

 

“What happened?” she asked.

 

“Well, I guess now we have to wait for the janitor.”

 

“Do you think he has steady hands?”

 

“I'm more worried about dinner. Do you see a meal buzzing about?”