"Heh. Poison joke. That's how my 'big adventure' began: with me becoming small!" He laughed and trotted through the flowers without a thought. Zecora had told him that once you had been affected by the pollen of a particular copse of the plant, you were immune to those specific flowers because 'they'd had their fun.' Zecora smiled; she had been the victim of this cheeky plant herself when she had first arrived. There was a plant much like it in the Marengeti, however, and the cure for that affliction worked for poison joke. Unfortunately, it had taken her most of the day to locate the ingredients, and she spent that time with her stripes flashing on and off like a theatre marquee.