Find a blacksmith to turn me human.
"I'm sorry," said the smitty, his name was Baker, "I
don't think you quite understand what the role of a blacksmith
entails. It's all hammers and steel and anvils; nothing to do with
turning bats into people."
"I'm disappointed," I said.
"You're disappointed?" said Meta-Bill, "What about the
battle we fell into in the first chapter? You didn't mention it at
all."
"Yawn, Meta-Bill, totally yawn, why don't you go and describe a
hedge or something to someone behind the fourth wall?"
"If that's the way you feel," sulked Meta-Bill, "I'll
bow out of the narrative for a bit."
"So smitty," I said to the smitty. "How about a
try?"
"What? You mean beat you with hammers to see if I can change you
from a bat to a person? Sounds a bit dangerous," said Baker the
smitty.
"It's the same principle, just make a human shape out of my batty
form in the same manner as a sword shape for a lump of metal."
"Okay," said the smitty and he flattened me with a giant
heated hammer.
"Ouch," I emoted, now a sticky bat-shaped puddle on an
anvil. "Please don't do that again; I didn't quite think this
through. But here, have a potato for your troubles." I said
taking one out of my wallet.
"Thank you very much," said the smitty and he scoffed it
down accordingly.
But before I had a chance to peel myself off and flap away and giant
barn owl swooped down and picked me up in his beak and flew away with
me.
I knew I had to reason with the bird, but I knew the language barrier
to be an issue, I could only foresee two alternatives:
"Ah, a smitty," I said flapping around the head of a very
fellow. "I need you to turn me human."
