Donald suddenly remembers that during his 431 years trapped under a mountain of hamburgers he stumbled across the antidote to your strange fishy affliction. You drink the antidote, and it instantly restores you to your former appearance. You look down, and yes! Even the cuban-heeled shoes have disappeared. 'Well done Donald!' you say, beaming, but suddenly your smile fades. 'Maybe I should have waited until I was on the other side of the river,' you moan. Your only options now are either to look for a boat or to head back the way you came.