Floating in cool water, Stewie tried to alleviate the reddish lumps on his sides. He ‘d lied, telling those who’d noticed, that he’d crawled among poisonous greenery. But the stubs grew, achingly, bursting through his skin, screaming in the coolness of water.

Swaying in the lake’s reeds, afraid to join his school, who darted for food as one moving mass, he hid, hungry and alone. During a dreaming moment, one of his kind pulled up silently next to him.

They saw his weirdness, and shouted bubbles, calling all to come see his new evil. Stewie dipped back into the murk and fled, tail whipping up a tiny wake. Blindly racing through the water so fast, he shot right out of his world, alighting upon lands edge.

Land, a place of danger, mystery, and killers of his kind. Breathing in heaviness, clean and sweet, a wave followed behind, lifting him up onto his new sore limbs, urged him on towards his new destiny.

Just then, a hard warm rain. Giant drops, like wet umbrellas, tenderly moistened him. And it was good.