I tried to groan and found I couldn't do that, either. And that made me, strangely, want to giggle. And, oddly enough, I _was_ giggling. Then someone was saying, "_Stop_ that!" and shaking my shoulder and it didn't seem to be wet and cold any more. My shoulder was bare, and the hand hurt and I looked up, and suddenly a nursery song of long ago that I'd heard in my childhood came back to me and I started to sing, "I fwam and I fwam right over the--" until the shock of hearing my voice come out a rich throaty contralto made me stop and bring my eyes into focus. And I was looking up at myself leaning over me, and the other I was saying in my voice, "Listen, I'm Margie Ames, and I'm curious to know who is in my body." "I'm Bill," I said. "What in the--" "Bill!" she cut in. "Where _were_ you? This Mr. O'Graeme (he's over in Senator Weems right now) was explaining what happened and we took a roll-call and you weren't around." I closed my eyes (or Margie's eyes) again. I should have had it by then, but I was still confused. Coming down the hallway, O'Graeme had told me that four or five drops of the fluid, in water, would cause "partial dissociation of personality." More than that would make it complete. And Mr. Ames had dropped the whole vial into the mermaid tank! "It's temporary," Margie said. "We change around every few minutes or so and it'll all come out right when the stuff wears off, but--" I was looking down at my--temporary--shapely arms and bare shoulders, and I started to chuckle. Suddenly--possibly it was the realization that whatever was happening was temporary--I began to see the humor of the situation. It isn't funny unexpectedly to find oneself in the body of a goldfish. But it _had_ been a rare experience--and I'd almost kissed a mermaid! I said, "This is a beautiful dress we have on, Margie." * * * * * She blushed and stamped her big foot on my dainty little open-toed slipper. "Bill!" she wailed. "How could you? _You_ of all people! It isn't decent! It--it's--" And then the funny side of it struck her too, and we were both laughing like a couple of lunatics. I saw she was waving my arms around in glee. I sobered up a moment, and warned, "Be careful of that watch-candid on your--my--wrist. It set me back a hundred credits." I stood up and looked around. And my scope of interest widened as I found myself in the center of a lot of confusion. Roger Wescott, the Interplanetary Transport magnate, was chasing his mouse-like wife around the mermaid tank. She ran past me with a frightened look on her face and I grabbed Wescott's arm. "Look, Wescott," I said. "Isn't that a bit--" He grinned at me. "That's Mrs. Ames, and she's down to the size now where I can give her the spanking I've always wanted--" He jerked and I let go his arm. If anyone wanted to spank Mrs. Ames while the spanking was good, he had my blessing. When they came around again, I yelled, "But who are you?"