Stanley Sheds His Skin

8 pages · 5 min · ages 5+

“Watch this!” Stanley tried to tie himself into a pretzel. He couldn't. He felt stiff. He felt tight. He felt itchy all over, like he was wearing a woolly jumper two sizes too small. And his colours looked funny. His bright green had gone cloudy. His yellow zigzags had gone dull. Even his eyes had gone milky, like a steamed-up window on a cold morning. Stanley didn't feel like Stanley at all. And Stanley wanted to feel like Stanley again.

“Oh no!” squawked Mango. “Oh no! You look terrible! Terrible!” Lola the sloth was hanging from her branch above them. She opened her mouth to say something important. “Stanley…” said Lola. Then she stopped to think about the next word. Sloths do everything slowly, even talking. Stanley rubbed his itchy nose on a rough rock. A little flap of skin peeled off, thin and see-through, like paper. Stanley stared at it. “I'm falling apart!” he shouted.

“Glue!” shouted Mango. “We need glue! Glue!” He flew off and came back with a big leaf full of sticky honey. They spread the honey on the flappy bit and stuck it back down. Then they stuck a leaf on top, to be safe. Then another leaf. Then lots more leaves. Soon Stanley wasn't a snake any more. He was a long, wobbly, snake-shaped pile of leaves, with two eyes and a bow tie. “Much better,” said Mango. “Much better!” And then the bees found the honey.

Stanley zoomed through the jungle, with three bees buzzing behind him. Zzzzz! He zoomed round the big tree. He zoomed under the bridge. He zoomed straight into the river. Splash! The leaves floated away, the honey washed away, and the bees buzzed off to find some flowers instead. Stanley lay on the riverbank, dripping. More skin was peeling now. Bits by his nose. Bits by his tail. “Oh no, oh no,” said Mango, flapping. “…is…” said Lola, very slowly, from her branch.

Stanley did not want anybody to see him falling apart. He wanted to hide. He found a hollow log at the edge of the clearing, a little bit narrow and a little bit scratchy, and he started to wriggle inside. It was tight. But Stanley was good at tight places. He was the snake who got himself out of the biggest knot in the whole jungle. So he wriggled. And wriggled. And wriggled some more.

Then something strange happened inside the log. As Stanley wriggled forward, the scratchy inside of the log held on to his old skin, and the old skin began to slide off backwards, like pulling off a sock. The more he wriggled, the more slid off. Wriggle. Slide. Wriggle. Slide. It didn't hurt one bit. In fact, it felt wonderful, like a big stretch after a long sleep. Stanley wasn't falling apart. Stanley was coming out.

Pop! Stanley slid out of the other end of the log. He was shiny. He was bright. His green was greener than ever, his yellow zigzags glowed like sunshine, and his eyes were as clear as water. And he was a little bit bigger, too. Behind him, inside the log, lay his old skin, pale and papery, in the exact shape of a snake. Mango looked at Stanley. Mango looked at the old skin. Mango looked at Stanley again. “Two Stanleys!” squawked Mango. “Two Stanleys!”

Stanley tied himself into a pretzel, easy as anything. Then a bow. Then a perfect letter S. “Watch this!” he said. “I'm new!” And from the branch above, Lola, who had been talking all day long, finally finished her sentence. “Stanley… don't… worry… it's… your… new… skin.” Stanley laughed so hard that he tied himself in a knot. But this time, he knew exactly how to get out.