The Potion Collector’s Catastrophe

     The first potion he had ever purchased was a small bottle filled with clouds that he found in a shop in Neopia Central. The label was faded, and the liquid inside swirled into an unpleasant shade of green. The warning on the bottle was so large that Bramble had barely been able to read the words beneath it.

      TRANSMOGRIFICATION POTION. NOT FOR CASUAL USE.

     Bramble looked at it for about five minutes, then decided to buy it.

     “Isn’t it wonderful?” He said, admiring the bottle as he placed it on a shelf in his bedroom.

     His younger sister, Poppy, a Yellow Kacheek, stared at the potion.

     “You think this potion is wonderful? Look at it! It looks like something that would make a Skeith sick.” She said.

     “That is because you don’t appreciate history.” Bramble snapped back.

     “It is a bottle of green goo.” Poppy said, laughing at him.

     “It’s a Transmogrification Potion.” Bramble smiled.

     He loved them. Soon, one potion became three.

     Then three became seven. Before long, Bramble’s bedroom looked less like a bedroom and more like an alchemist’s shop. Bottles sat on his desk and under his bed. He even had some inside his closet and on top of his wardrobe. He had potions from all over Neopia. Some were purchased from shops and others were traded with other collectors. A few of them had taken him months to find. He kept a notebook detailing every bottle.

      Page 1: Green Transmogrification Potion. Acquired on Tuesday.

     Page 2: Red Transmogrification Potion. Acquired on Saturday.

     Page 3: Strange-looking Transmogrification Potion with a purple sediment. Do NOT shake.

     Bramble was proud of his collection because he had never actually used a single potion. He didn’t want to. He was just a collector who wanted to collect as many as he could. Besides, everyone knew Transmogrification Potions were dangerous and that they could turn a Neopet into a Mutant. Bramble had seen enough pictures to know that Mutant pets were not exactly known for their subtle appearances. But the danger was what made the bottles interesting.

     “One day, these will be worth a fortune.” Bramble told Poppy.

     “One day your bedroom will explode.” Poppy laughed.

     It finally came the day Bramble acquired the centrepiece of his collection. It was an unusually large bottle that was filled with purple liquid and glistened whenever it caught the light. The seller had called it “extremely rare.”

     “Where did you find this?” Bramble asked.

     “I cannot tell you. It is a secret,” the seller replied.

     “How much would you like for it?” Bramble asked.

     The seller named a price, and Bramble paid immediately. He carried the potion home with both paws as he gazed in happiness. Poppy was waiting for him in the kitchen when he arrived.

     “What did you buy?” Poppy asked.

     “Oh, nothing.” Bramble said, rolling his eyes.

     “Bramble! Did you buy another potion?” Poppy questioned.

     “Fine. I’ll show you.” Bramble said as he pulled the potion from his bag. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

     “No! That colour looks awful and seems poisonous.” Poppy said in disgust.

     “Well, that’s part of the charm!” Bramble said.

     “Please tell me you aren’t going to drink it.” Poppy sighed.

     “Of course not!” Bramble laughed as he carried it upstairs.

     Unfortunately, Bramble had forgotten that his bedroom was already full. He placed the new potion on his desk, but the desk was covered with bottles. He tried moving a bottle to make room, which caused that bottle to bump into another. Then a domino effect started, and as the last bottle started to wobble off the table, Bramble reached out and caught it.

     “Got you!” Bramble exclaimed.

     His paw knocked into the purple potion and the bottle tipped.

     “No!” Bramble shouted.

     He leapt forward, and the potion rolled toward the edge of the desk. He caught it but also knocked over a stack of books. The books crashed onto the desk, and the potion flew from his paws. Bramble watched helplessly as the bottle sailed through the air, then hit the floor.

      CRASH!

     Purple liquid splashed across the room, and the potion began to fizz. The purple liquid spread across the floor and was bubbling as it went.

     “Oh, no. What have I done?” Bramble questioned himself.

     A bubble popped.

     “NO!” Bramble shouted as he jumped backwards.

     Unfortunately, his tail knocked another bottle off the shelf, and that bottle shattered. Its contents splashed into the purple puddle. More bottles started to fall, and within seconds, Bramble’s collection had become a chain reaction of bubbling potion chaos. He could see green liquids mixed with red and then the red liquids mixed with the blue and then the purple. The entire room began to glow.

     Poppy burst through the door.

     “What happened?” She asked.

     “I think I made a mistake.” Bramble said, pointing to the mess.

     “I’d say so.” She said.

     The puddle erupted, and a cloud of purple mist filled the room. Bramble started to cough.

     “Poppy! Go get help!” Bramble exclaimed.

     She ran out the door to try to find someone to help him.

     Bramble stumbled toward the window, hoping that he could escape. He grabbed the handle, but a potion cloud swirled around him. His fur and ears started to tingle as it made its way to his entire body.

     Oh, this cannot be good,” Bramble said.

     When Poppy returned with a healer, Bramble was sitting in the middle of the room, and he looked different. His once brown fur had turned into a strange shade of purple. His eyes were larger than before, and his ears were pointed. There were small spikes that appeared along his back. Bramble stared at his reflection in the broken glass.

     Poppy slowly covered her mouth. Bramble looked at her.

     “Don’t laugh at me, please.” Bramble begged, embarrassed at what he had done.

     “I’m not laughing at you!” Poppy said.

     “You are though.” Bramble sighed.

     “I’m trying not to.” Poppy said, then she burst out laughing.

     “Well, I’ve never seen anything quite like this.” The healer said.

     “Can you fix me?” Bramble asked.

     “I might be able to, but the potions mixed together. Some of them may have reacted with one another.” The healer said.

     Bramble looked at the shelves and saw that his collection was ruined. Broken glass covered the floor, and bottles had spilt everywhere. His precious potions were gone. For the first time, he didn’t care about the collection. He cared about himself.

     “Will I stay like this?” He asked.

     “Not necessarily, but until we determine exactly what happened, you should avoid drinking anything else.” The healer muttered.

     Bramble agreed and took the healer's advice. But, by the following morning, the entire neighbourhood knew, and by lunchtime, the entirety of Neopia Central knew. Someone had already started calling him “Bramble the Mutant Meerca.”

     Bramble hated it and refused to leave the house. He didn’t want anyone staring or whispering at him. Most of all, he didn’t want people laughing.

     Poppy sat down beside him. “You know, you don’t have to hide.” She said.

     “That’s easy for you to say because you look normal.” Bramble muttered.

     “What’s normal? You are still Bramble. You still complain when your tea is cold. You organise your books by colour and talk about potions for hours when nobody asked.” Poppy smiled.

     “I do not!” Bramble sneered.

     “You absolutely do.” Poppy laughed.

     “You are different. But different isn’t the same as bad.” Poppy nudged him.

     Bramble looked down at his purple paws and wasn’t convinced. The next morning, a Blue Kougra appeared at the door.

     “Are you Bramble?” The Kougra asked.

     “Yes, I am. Why?” Bramble questioned.

     “Can I see?” The Kougra smiled.

     Bramble expected fear but decided to show himself.

     “Wow! You are amazing!” The Kougra said.

     “Wow? I am a Mutant.” Bramble froze.

     “I know! Do you have super strength like breathing fire?” The Kougra asked.

     “No, I don’t, sorry.” Bramble said.

     “Well, can you show me your collection?” The Kougra asked eagerly.

     “There’s not much left, but sure.” Bramble laughed.

     He opened the door, and the Kougra stared at the ruined bedroom.

     “Wow. What are you going to do?” The Kougra asked.

     Bramble looked around and took it all in. For years, his collection had been the most important thing in his life. He suddenly realised how much time he had spent worrying about getting the next potion. He had collected so many things that he had forgotten to enjoy them, and now they were gone. Bramble picked up his notebook and looked through the pages. He started tearing out each page.

     “What are you doing?” Poppy asked.

     “I’m going to start over.” Bramble said.

     “With another collection?” Poppy questioned.

     “No, I am going to collect experiences.” Bramble smiled.

     “That sounds suspiciously like something a Mutant would say.” Poppy said, raising an eyebrow.

     Over the next few weeks, Bramble became a local celebrity, and not because he was the most strange-looking Meerca, but instead, he became known as the Meerca who had accidentally turned himself into a Mutant and somehow learned to enjoy it. He visited the Haunted Woods and explored Mystery Island. He entered a cooking competition, despite having absolutely no cooking skills. He even submitted a story to the Neopian Times titled “How Not to Organise Your Transmogrification Potion Collection.” It became a very popular story.

     Bramble still had one potion left because it had survived the accident. He kept it in a locked cabinet, and it wasn’t because he wanted to use it. But because he had learned his lesson. One afternoon, Poppy found him staring at it.

     “Are you thinking about drinking it?” Poppy asked.

     “No. I am thinking about selling it.” Bramble grinned.

     Bramble closed the cabinet and glanced at his reflection in the glass. He had purple fur and unusual eyes. He still looked strange, especially with his spikes. But for the first time, he didn’t mind. He had spent years collecting potions because he thought the rarest things were the most valuable.

     Now he understood that sometimes the most valuable things weren’t things you could put on a shelf and that they were the memories you made and the friends you found. The mistakes you survived and accidentally turning yourself into a Mutant because you had absolutely no idea when to stop buying bottles.

     “At least I’m one of a kind.” Bramble smiled.

     From the kitchen, Poppy shouted, “You were one of a kind before!”

     Maybe being a Mutant wasn’t so bad after all.

     The End.