Short-Shorter-Shortest Story

My first memory is of being held up in a glaring white light, and a man in a stretchy, yellow suit picking me up and turning me every-which-way and prodding me in various places. I suppose you may fing it wierd, but for me, that was the routine every day for the first fifteen years of my very, very long life. you see, i wasn't your average boy. I was a test-tube-born, red, scaly, humanish lizard. I had large, black eyes, with no pupils. I had a row of spikes running down my back and my tail- yes, you herd right, my tail. I had no idea that there was anything else in this world beyong my private, bleached-white, room. That, is, until i turned fifteen. That day, the scientists who ran the facility I was born in, admitted a stranger into my room, the first time that they had done that. And the last. He turned out to be he President of the United States, one of the many countries in that tumultous world. He came into my room, sat down, and stared. That's all he did. He stared. he staered and stared and stared until a small girl, blond pigtails askew, tears leakingfrom her blue eyes, burst into the room. She came in with the force of a hurricane, all energy and tears and noise, noise that I had never experienced in my life. I hiss and crouced down, my hands clutching my suddenly, and feircely, aching head.