At last the improvised lab is complete. Burbaloo stands back to admire her work. Mr. Jashenzizok mumbles something: already the fleshy mushroom has grown over his face, leaving only the vague impression of a person’s visage within.
Burbaloo, with a start, hurries to free him once more.
“Thank you, Burbaloo,” Mr. Jashenzizok says, when he can. “All seems to be in order, here. Now, we must merely synthesize the hadroflouric!” He barks further instructions, directions, chemical compounds.
Burbaloo stops. “But Mr. Jashenzizok, if I combine the hexazyampheite with monoplenunsathol and add a splash of styndiene, that will brew a compound potent enough to wipe away your puffball form like smoke on the breeze.”
Mr. Jashenzizok offers a contemptuous smile. “But of course, Burbaloo.”
“But what if it doesn’t end there? What if it eats right through your human form, as well?”