It had been a week since I went to the hospital.
In that time, news of the disease and its effects had spread, almost as fast as the disease. A growing percentage of the population was now cartoons, and the disease itself had picked up the popular nickname Toonmonia.
Since everything we touched turned into a cartoon, we were still kept under quarantine; however, there were rumblings that this situation couldn't be maintained indefinitely. The sheets, which were changed daily, reverted to fabric within two hours; likewise, the dishes and flatware changed back by the time they got back to the kitchen to be washed. However, the beds, chairs, walls, and floors all looked like animation cels, and they weren't changing back.
Since the disease was now common knowledge, I decided it was time to bite the bullet and tell my parents what had happened. The hospital arranged a Skype call, and I signaled them at the arranged time.
Mom answered quickly. "Gail, honey," she said, "turn off the filter. You look like a cartoon."
"It's not a filter, Mom," I replied. "You know that weird new disease that's going around? I got it. I look like a cartoon because I am a cartoon."
She went pale. "My poor baby." She put her hand on her screen, and I did the same to mine. "Are you in any pain, Gail?"
"Not so far. I hit my head a couple days ago; I saw stars and birds flying around my head for a bit. Then, I shook my head; it made a weird noise, but I was good as new when I stopped. I may have cartoon invulnerability; of course, I'm not going too far to test that out."
"It's so strange seeing you like that, Gail. You look like you should be solving mysteries with a talking dog, or something."
"Rid romeone rention re?" Tabitha asked, jumping between me and the monitor.
"Not you specifically, Tabitha; my mom was just commenting on how I look."
"Tabitha? Isn't that your roommate's name?"
"That's her; she just changed a bit more than I did."
"Ri, Rissus RacReille; row are you?"
"I'm fine, Tabitha. Are you taking good care of Gail?"
"Yes, ra'am."
"And make sure she takes care of you."
"I will, Mom."
We talked for a while, then ended the call. "It was nice to see something besides these hospital walls for a change," I said.
"Then you'll like what you're about to hear," Dr. Blank said. "The city has donated an abandoned neighborhood; soon, you and your fellow toons will have a place to call your very own."
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