Life in Colby Junctionby teenytiny02rated PG "COLBY JUNCTION": Part One I can't say that I would complain. Ol' Jack Littleman never complains about life's circumstances. I lead a pretty happy life; I have a two- story house in a quiet, "little" community and I live close to my family. So what if my little community is a model railroad town? Yep, you read correctly. I live in a '1/2Z' model train set. The "town" I live in was named "Colby Junction", and I built this town--when I was among the "giants". But then, 'Scott Carey Disease' struck me shortly after my fortieth birthday and soon I found myself so tiny that I now have to live in this tiny model train world of my own creation. You see, I began collecting model trains 20 years ago. Five years ago, I began collecting the tiniest and extremely rare scale model train sets currently found in production: the "Half Z (1/2Z) Scale". The scale of the 'Half Z' models is 1:440; where one inch represents 36.67 feet. An entire village fits onto a 4' X 6' set; neatly on most tabletops. The train that runs around my town is a model of the old Baltimore & Ohio Railroad. At my size, the whistle of the train sounds as loud as a regular train whistle, but in the "giant" world, it sounds like a cute, faint little 'squeal'. The model train runs around the village and through a tunnel in old Mount Uriah, covered with a green, foamy substance that represetns trees and greenery. Yes, I do miss my old life sometimes; I miss embracing my lovely wife and playing basketball with my two adopted sons. They are twins--Manuel and Roberto--who are 18 and are from Columbia. My wife and I adopted them when they were seven months old. Now, the twins are 6'5", 210-pound young men who would tower over me even if I were still 5'5" and 135 pounds. Each boy is an extremely talented basketball player and are both being offered scholarships from many NCAA Division I schools. I love to see them on the same team--let's say Duke--and watch them play. I don't know how I could ever watch them in person, that would be far too dangerous for a man who is nearly invisible to the naked eye. That's another thing I will deeply miss beyond words, I hate missing their ball games, camping trips, fishing trips, and just hanging out and watching TV like normal families do. The guilt and the feelings of insignificance are weighing upon me. Sometimes I dream that I am swimming around in a small, paper cup filled with water. It is the cups of water that the players on the basketball team drink during time outs. I was swimming in Manuel's cup. I screamed and screamed, but he couldn't hear me. He was fixed upon the game, sweat poured down his face as coaches barked orders. There was no way Manuel could notice his speck-size father, swimming for dear life in the tiny Dixie cup! He lifted the cup to his full, moist lips. As the cup tilted toward his now parted lips, the current swept me between those huge lips...and then I awoke! Crazy stuff, huh? Anyway, there is also a foster child living in our home. My wife has commited our home to be a foster home despite my "disability" (that's what the insurance company calls it). The one foster boy is an African-American, 6'6" 17 year old named Deshawn, who also plays a pretty mean game of basketball at my sons' high school. It was because of Manuel and Roberto that Deshawn found a home with us. He's pretty cool about me being, well, approximately 1/7th of an inch tall; of course he was shocked as hell when he first saw me!! But I'll tell you about that at another time. I won't lie: it's a challenge to be a father for a man in my strange position. At my size, all my teen-age boys tower over half a mile!! Have YOU ever GROUNDED your 2,800 foot tall teen or denied requests of loans from TWO half-mile tall, 18 year-old twins as you stood in a soccer-field sized palm!?! Well, I have (so don't tell ME about how hard it is to raise children in this day and age!!)! And the three of them to listen to me, believe it or not! Of course, once Deshawn wasn't too happy about me not letting him stay out past curfew. I was a little worried. I spoke to in from the second-story window of my house (which measures a little over an inch tall!!). To make matters worse, he had my house in the palm of his hand. My house is about the size of a ping-pong ball (actually, it's a little smaller; now how scary is THAT!?!) I was worried Deshawn would get so angry that he would make a fist and crush me and the house in his palm. Deshawn's tested this tiny ol' man quite a bit. I am most worried about him. He's a rough kid brought up under hard circumstances. Being about the size of a sesame seed doesn't make me much of an authority figure for such a troubled young man. Of course, I am afraid of him. Deshawn is so huge, glowering down over my humble little village looking as though he would take his mighty fist and slam it right in the middle of the town square; looking as if he's going to pluck the tiny model train right off the track between two colossal fingers and hurl it like a paper wad! He appears god-like to me, and that scares me the most. Especially if HE'S thinking the same thought! But as I began, life is pretty good, over all. I love mornings the most. I am awakened each day by the thundering earthquakes of basketball sneakers: footfall clomping, stomping, and squeaking along the hardwood floor in the 'train room' as my twin sons approach my village perched atop a card table. Manuel and Roberto tower on either side of the village, and finally lean over my inch-tall house, and whisper 'Good-bye, Dad' as they leave for school. Their breath flows in through the open windows of the tiny model house like a stiff summer breeze, warm and somewhat moist, filling my home with warmth and the smell of the cereal they ate for breakfast. I make it a point to get out of bed and go to the window to wave good-bye. If not, they may playfully and very gently pick up the house and slowly shake it, saying: "Oh Pop? Pop? Are you awake", as they snicker to themselves. Once I was in the bathroom when they did this. I was knocked off my feet and tumbled into the tiny tub, banging my head fairly hard. I wanted to kick their rear ends, then I remembered that I was half the size of an average ant. (*Sigh*) Oh, well! Deshawn comes in later, stomping along in a pair of tan Timberland boots and leans over the house. He places a colossal forefinger against my bedroom window as I rush up and "high five" him! Deshawn smiles down upon me for a moment, then gets a look across his face as if he is ready to flick my house right off the table into oblivion. Soon, the kids are off for school and my wife comes in, leans over the village and blows me her "Hurricane Kisses", as we call them. We still talk. I have a tiny wireless microphone in the house that I talk into, which amplifies my voice through speakers inside the 'train room'. A good thing, in case I get into trouble. Well, my wife says it's time for me to go to see the doctor, to make sure that I'm not continuing to shrink. I am so hard to see as it is. And the wireless mic just barely works well enought to pick up my tiny voice. I don't have to tell you how disastrous it would be if I shrunk down any further. I'll let you know how the trip to the doctor went next time. Good day, everyone!
Subject: Life in Colby Junction (PART TWO) Well, the good news is that the trip to the doctor went well. At least I made it back without getting blown away by the slightest breeze or crushed. Yeah, I'm a little testy today. These doctors just seem to be getting younger all of the time. Doctor Mark Hampton has to be only 30 years old or so. He still looks like a kid to me. He's a big guy...well, I need to clarify, seeing as how at my 1/7th-inch stature, EVERYONE is colossal. Doctor Hampton must be some kind of a body builder, he's got those thick, "bull" shoulders atop a narrow set of hips. Dr. Hampton is about six feet tall and at least 220 lbs; but that's just a guess. Like I said in "Part One", at my tiny size, the average human seems around a half-mile tall and proably millions of tons!!He reminds me of that guy on "American Idol"--the marine; I can't think of his name. Ol'd Doc's quite a looker! He wears these tiny, dark wire glasses that make him look both competent AND sexy! :) I stood, naked as a jaybird, on a glass microscope slide as he exanmined my body through a microscope. Jeez, looking up at his eye on the other end of the scope was something! The black pupil alone looked at least ten times my size. And the thunder of his footfall!! He wears some kind of "Doc Martens" shoes or boots: huge & clunky that feels like the blast of several tons of TNT with each step. But, anyway, now's the time for me to begin to tell you about the bad news. Dr. Hampton tells my wife, Clara, and I that I don't seem to be shrinking any further and that I seem healthy (at my size, he can't do a thorough examination, of course). After the doctor's office, my wife stops at a McDonald's for breakfast. She sat down at the table and took me out of the pill bottle. I am nestled in a wad of cotton in the smallest pill bottle Clara could find. I am resting in the cotton on the table, when I hear a huge clamor over the loud roar of the restaurant. The clamor is the sound of footsteps; and heavy footsteps at that. Clara and I both look in the direction of the clamor. To both of our surprise, a tall, well built young man with dark brown hair pulled back in a pony tail plomps himself down in the chair across from my wife! The young man appears to be in his early twenties and is wearing a brown, soft leather trenchcoat and a dark knit pullover under the coat. Before he sat down, I caught a glimpse of his baggy blue jeans. He wore a pair of brown harness boots with hard, heavy heels; that was the source of the 'clamor'. The young man asks my wife, "I couldn't help but to notice you when you came in." How does such a good-looking young man know my wife? Clara looks nervous and tells him that she's really not in the mood to see anybody right now, but he interrupts: "Hey, that's all right! I only hope you're in the mood later on tonight!" Clara clears her throat nervously and mumbled "Whatever are you talking about, Cole?" Clara called the dude 'Cole' as if she's known him for a while. Clara looks as if she would like to join me at my tiny size; Cole hasn't even noticed me--why would he? I'm on a cotton wad, who would pay any attention to that? Anyway, Cole gave my wife a confused look. "Did you forget about me coming over to spend the night?" WHAT??? Dear God, was Clara actually involved with this punk? She's too old for him, I don't care how good she looks!! My heart raced in my chest. Jeez, I could just punch Cole's light out. He's sleeping with my wife. Right in my own home. Okay, so my home is in the damn model train set--but I mean the "giant's" home--MY home, the house that I worked to pay off before I came down with 'Scott Carey Disease'! Okay, alright, I kow what you're thinking. I can't love my wife physically anymore. But she seemed okay with that--MY GOD!! Listen to me!! Am I that stupid!?! Of course she's "okay" with it. All of these feelings rushed through me. Since I was powerless to vent my anger out on Cole with my fist on his chin, I wanted to die. I wanted to fling myself off the edge of the table and plummet however many hundreds of feet to the floor below. It's not as if Clara would miss me! Anyway, after cocky Cole stomped of in those God- awful LOUD boots, she carefully picked up the cotton wad where I sat and apologized profusely. She explained that she never told Cole about me. She told him her husband was dead! Hmpf! Clara told me she lost her wedding ring, now I pretty well know that she just doesn't wear it any longer. The bitch! If I had my wireless mic, I'd yell at her and call her every name in the book, the stupid slut. She can go ahead and squish me for all I care! Sleeping with other men as I sit in another room of her house is just---it's worse than death!! It's wrong, no matter how tiny I am. I am a human being--a LIVING human being!! I am her husband, no matter how small I am! After getting to my tiny house in the 'Half Z' 1:440 scale model, I crawled up to my teeny, tiny bed and cried. When I dozed off, I dreamed about being on some hardwood floor, running for my dear life, as Cole tried to stomp on me with his colossal, biker boots. He missed me several times, toying with me. It was humiliating, even if it was a dream. As far as I'm concerned, I could just continue to shrink away to oblivion. This is the worst day of my life, worse that even the shrinking. Worse than that time when I was six inches tall, walking around the huge pair of 'Air Jordans' in Manuel's room. When Clara and I brought Manuel and Roberto home from the adoption agency, I could remember how small those two were, such tiny hands and feet. I remember that as I walked around the discarded sneakers that were about the size of a moving truck. One shoe was turned over on its side, so I crawled into it. It really didn't smell foul, just smelled like a young man who was a fierce competitor. I could crawl all of the way inside that Jordan 'high-top', right up to the toe, and lay out. My body wasn't even half as long as the insole (HA!! Of course, at my present height, I'm not even half as toe as the little hole through which the damn laces fit!!). Manuel found me inside that shoe, he thought it was just the funniest thing in the entire world! I laughed a little too, but I remember how loud his laughter was to my six-inch frame--that was the worst day in my life; until today. Gosh, I'm rambling now. I'm sorry, but I'm no longer in the mood to talk. I'll let you know what happens next sometime. Right now, my little 1/7th of an inch frame needs rest and time to sulk.
Subject: Life in Colby junction (PART THREE) Well, I thought I'd give all of you an update. I am doing much better; I've just resigned myself to the fact that while living in thie 1:440 scale model train set, that I am no longer in control of what my wife does. it sucks, but I'm not sure what else I can do. Anyway, things are improving. I have a car now! A friend of mine who is an engineer that designs micro-robots constructed a working model Ford Mustang at the 1:440 scale. It is less than a quarter of an inch long and is electic. The car is charged daily by a 'AAA' size battery, which should last forever! It doesn't run like a real Mustang, of course, but it does allow me to drive around Colby Junction and stop at the railroad crossing to watch my beloved micro- model train zip by. At my size, one inch represents over thirty six and a half feet, and I'm the only one who lives in Colby Junction (which is located in a spare room of a house that houses a cheating wife, two adopted Latino twin son, and a foster son. Scott Carey Disease caused me to shrink small enough to live comfortably in a micro-model train set village: now you're up to date). One early Saturday evening, as I was driving my tiny Mustang down 'Main Street', the tip of a forefinger that seemed nearly 20 feet thick to me slammed itself down in the middle of the street. I slammed on my brakes, nearly running into the fingertip. The fingertip belong to Manuel, my 18 year old basketball jock son, while his twin brother, Roberto, looked on. The two teen-aged athletes tower over my village as tall as the Sears Tower (and that's just from their waist up!! The Colby Junction train sets rests on a card table). Soon, I sat in my mustang, which was balanced on the nail of Manuel's forefinger. "Cool wheels, dad!" whispered Manuel, his breath blasting against my mustang like a huge gust of wind, rocking my tiny car). My twin adopted sons resemble Enrique Iglesias; they are exremely handsome young latino men. Manuel is wearing a "dew-rag" while Roberto is wearing a ballcap turned around backwards. Both are shirtless and wearing baggy basketball shorts. I assue that they have come in from an afternoon workout of one-on-one basketbal game in the driveway, their bodies were still dripping with sweat. The boys--who tower over regular-sized people at 6'5"--have lean, muscular physiques, very well-developed pecs, shoulders like that of a bull, and hard, firm bicepts, with veins popped out from the bicept down through their forearms. I am so proud of the kind of men they turned out to be, both physically and in character. As my car sat on Manuel's fingernail, he began to walk, taking me out of the train room. We ended up in the den, where the TV was on low. Manuel placed my car (and me) on the coffeetable next to a Coke can the height of a downtown office skyscrapper. The smell of pizza was overpowering. Sure enough, the boys had ordered a few boxes of pizza; too many pizzas for two boys, even hungry jocks like Manuel and Roberto. Just then, I hear a blasting that rocked me and my pea-sized mustang on the coffeetable. Other male teens clomped into the living room; almost the entire varisty basketball team was in my living room!! The boys were throwing a party! Yes, my wife was out of town visiting her family...it all makes sense. Just then, Roberto's voice sounded forth across the landscape as he explained to his buddies: "Yeah, it's cool. My DAD is the chaperone for this party!" "Sweet!' bellowed a jock with shoulder-legth, dark-brown, mop of a head of hair, as he squinted down at me in my micro mustang. "He's the PERFECT chaperone, as far as I'm concerned!!" At this, the den full of varsity basketball jocks laughed, in a way that sounded awfully mischevous. Apparently, Manuel and Roberto gathered with their teammates at a nearby park to shoot afternoon hoops, and now they were going to unwind by kickin' it in my house. The boys could all explain that the party WAS chaperoned by Manuel and Roberto's dad. But, fortunately for the teens, their dad was the size a sesame seed!! I couldn't believe the sight my eyes beheld: A black kid was messing around with the stereo system, SLAPPING IT and jamming in buttons with the full strength of his finger. Meanwhile, the lids of pizza boxes were being tossed open, causing a wind gust that blew my car back a few inches--an inch from the edge of the table!! Another blond teen kicked his basketball high-tops off (sending them CRASHING to the hardwood floor, peeled off his socks, and propped his colossal bare feet on the table next to me. Other "mega giants" were gathering around the pizza, grabbing a slice, looking down at my tiny car, and saying "Hey there, dawg!" I wanted to chase all the jocks out of the house. No chance of that, though. I wasn't going to make these kids do anything; I'm too tiny to even yell at them!! Soon after the blond kid devoured a slice a pizza that to me seemed the size of the Rose Bowl, he reached his greasy fingers down. In an instant, he had my quarter-inch long car in his massive palm. His fingers were very long (longer than my sons) and his palmed seemed about the size of a football field. "What's that??" he began, pretending like he could hear me talking when I wasn't, "You say we can break out the keg!! Why, sure thing, Mr. Chaperone, sir!" He then gave me an exaggerated, mock salute. Oh NO!! This party was going to turn into a boozer!! But then, things got worse for me. He placed me on the hardwood floor, saying that now I won't fall off the table. A dozen, half-mile tall, high school basketball jocks were stomping around in their sneakers and bare feet on this floor!! I began driving, hoping to get away and hide somewhere. Oh my God!! A 500-foot long, black with white trim, retro Reebok high-top slammed down in my path, blowing me back a fraction of an inch (10 feet to me). I veer to the right and drive as another basketball shoe stepped in my path of me for a split second as a teen walks across the floor. Just then, I saw what I was looking for! It was a pair of Nike Air Zooms, like what the New Jersey nets star Jason Kidd wears. Those 'size 15' dogs belong to Roberto!! I drove as fast as I could and stopped right in front of Roberto. His feet were sligtly spread apart, which allowed me to park between the toes of a pair of absolutely enormous Nikes. Roberto was standing and talking with a guy while eating a slice of pizza. As he talked and ate, he continuously shifted around in place. Just then, a piece of sausage fell from out of Roberto's mouth as he crammed a huge bite into his mouth. The piece of sausage, which was twice the size of my tiny mustang, fell "SPLAT!!" on the floor, missing me by millimeters! Roberto showed no intention of picking up his mess. But that may be good; if it doesn't get stepped on, at least I knew that I have a source of food here in this "giant" world. I'm sure I could live off of all of the millions of crumbs and pizza toppings that are falling from pizza slices and mouths onto my beautiful hardwood floor. 'Great, just great', I thought, 'I have no been promoted to the status of "insect"'! Roberto suddenly shifted his right foot about six inches forward, the rubber sole emitted an ear-piercing screech on the floor (at least at my size, it was ear-piercing. It would go unnoticed among 'giants', however). His shoe lace came undone, and the 10 foot thick cable of a lace plopped in front of my car, nearly landing right on top of my poor Mustang. Should I get out of the car and grab ahold of the lace, or stay where I am? It was nearly impossible for me to think at all, let alone rationally. Hip-hop was blaring on the stereo, the low, thunderous bass of male voices droned, and the thundering of the feet of teens walking about the room for more pizza and more soft drinks and beer was too much for a man 440 times smaller than life to withstand; FAR too much stimuation!! I honestly did not know what to do or even if I would live. Why did Manuel and Roberto throw this party and put me in the mix!?! Jeez, I wanted to wring their necks! Yeah, good luck! A common, insignificant, little ol' ANT could ring the necks of those strong, young jocks before I ever could. At my size, an ant is a "giant" and is probably stronger than a dozen bull elephants! Just then, Roberto moved his foot again, steping back. A few seconds later, he was called in to the kitchen. Roberto stepped forward, moving towards the kitchen. With that first, quick step he took, I saw the Nike swoosh and the funky-color sole of his shoe descended rapidly toward me. I beleive this was the end. "THUMP" was the last sound I heard, the sound of the sneaker landing hard on the floor, with me and my tiny car in between the sole and hardwood floor. Thank God my mustang has a cast-iron body. The roof was pushed in a little, but overall, I was still in one piece. However, the car was no longer drivable (the axles were broken), but the cast iron body of my quarter-inch long vehicle withstood being stepped on by a 215- pound young man. Still, I can no longer drive the car. And I knew that I could no longer stay on this floor. My mind raced for possible solutions...what COULD I do?
I climbed out of the cast-iron Ford Mustang replica, a 1:440 scale model of the real thing. Soon, I staggered about for a moment. Here I was, 440 times smaller than life (about one-seventh of an inch tall) in a living room that was thundering and rocking with my twin son's basketball teammates. I watched a white Nike 'Air force one'--which was the size of an airfield hanger--slam down about six inches (to me, the distance seemed about 220 feet)from me. With a huge gust, it lifted as the teen 'giant' who owned it continued to walk along. I knew that I would be squished very soon if I didn't do something. So I ran.
I jumped over a two-foot wide ditch (which was actually the crack
between floorboards) to the next board and froze. A fly landed on the
floor, over on the next floorboard. At my size, the fly was the size
of a garbage truck, and it was heading my way! I backed up...BAM! Well, to make a long story short, I was able to get the fly to trust me enought for me to climb up its crusty exo-skeleton body and onto the back of the mighty beast. And not a moment too soon: the fly took off just as a couple pair of feet stomped by. The jocks from the basketball team were getting a little noisy, now. They had the TV on, but a few were rough-housing. SMASH! Two of then bumped into a side table and knocked a vase to the floor. Thank God I was riding this fly, flying over the heads of the teens near the ceiling. Suddenly, I started to break out in a cold sweaty. My head began to ache. OH NO! It couldn't be! These are the symptoms I have...right before I shrink!!! The fly's back appeared to expand out before me. I was shrinking some more!! The fly dove down, right next to my smashed model Mustang. I began to get off the fly's back, but stopped. It seemed like a TEN FOOT drop, at LEAST to the floor below. I looked at my model car. It looked so much larger. I figure I was not much taller than the diameter of the car's tires! That meant that I was smaller...I was approximately one-sixteenth of an inch tall!!! The fly took off again. I grabbed ahold to some long, fine hairs on the flys back as we buzzed right in the face of a handsome, brown eyed jock. It was Tyler, Roberto's best friend. Tyler was around 6'1" and 225 and a star on both the basketball and football teams. Tyler looked much like Matt LeBlanc. Tyler was a kid I had come to know well. But now, at my size, where an inch now streches over 85 feet, Tyler was a terrifying god-like mountain. As we flew by, Tyler knitted his brow and swung with a hand that was larger than any stadium I could think of. "Get away from me, stupid fly" Tyler bellowed, nearly deafening me with his thundering voice. The massive hand of the jock just bare missed us as we flew away and around towards a couple of other jocks, standing by the stereo. We buzzed around their bare torsos, right next to the 'six-pack' abs of a black team member and flew into the kitchen. The outside door opened, and into the kitchen walked Manuel! He was wearing a ballcap and carrying a bucket of buffalo wings. The fly flew towards my mile-high son and landed on the bill of his ballcap. Soon, three of his friends surrounded him and they talked, slapping "high fives" and using all kinds of "keepin' it real" and "you're my dawg" and other phrases that this generation uses. The fly took off and carried me around my son's ear, which appeared to be a couple hundred feet long, with three mammoth-size ear-piercings hanging all around and an earhole the size of Mammoth Cave! The hairs of Manuel's sideburns were like some gnarled, twisted forest of coarse hair, the stubble on his face and chin was almost as tall as me! Again, another colossal hand flew up and swung at us. My own son was trying to swat me down! We flew away descend toward the floor. Someone had taken off his high-top 'Air Jordan' sneakers, and so the fly thought it would buzz around and explore. The right shoe was laying on its side, so the fly buzzed inside and flew straight to the insole and perched itself, with me stuggling to keep from falling off of the fly sitting perpendicular to the floor. As we flew, I saw the tag of the shoe: size 13. As the fly scurried around until it reach the ankle padding (which was laying horizontal),finally we were right-side up! The length of the insole extended a thousand feet before it disappeared entirely. I gulped hard. I had never been in an enclosed space so huge: it was like being in the Atlanta Dome! I never felt so puny and insignificant in all my life. Well, the above statement's not true, now that I think about it. When I had shrunk to less than two feet tall, I didn't have clothes small enough to fit. So Manuel and Roberto dressed me in baby clothes. They were the right length but far too big, as I am proportioned like a full-grown man and not as a baby. It was humiliating to be forced into a "Winne-the-Pooh" sleeping suit and have it be the right length but far too bulky. I resisted, but they reached their huge hands around my arms and legs and forced me into the baby suit. Manuel and Roberto laughed. Roberto slammed a pacifier into my mouth. When I took it out and threw it in his face, he picked me up one-handed by the scruff of the sleep suit with the ease of lifting a rag-doll. He turned me over his knee, and spanked me hard. Man, did that do a number on my back. I couldn't help from crying. I only weighed around 15 pounds at the time, and my strength decrease proportionally with my size: I was a weak as a baby and the size of a baby as a middle- aged man! I was no match against two 215 pound seventeen year olds. Eventually, my wife would see how pitiful I looked in the oversized baby suit and would intervene. She was the boss around the house. But only when she was home. Manuel and Roberto ruled, when Deshawn, my foster kid, surrender to his room whenever he was home. My wife would tear pieces of cloth from old clothes and I would wrap those around me (that's what I do in the present). At least when I shrank below an inch, I was too tiny to handle and, to Manuel and Roberto, no longer "fun to play with". They would just shout down to me in deep, booming bass voices: "HELLO! THIS IS THE VOICE OF GOD!!" knowing how it would shake me up. Sorry I got off on that tangent. Anyway, the fly took off from inside the colossal Air Jordan and flew around about two feet from the floor. Mountainous hairy legs disappeared into baggy, rayon basketball shorts as a crowd of boys gathered around the buffalo wings Manuel brought home. The fly buzzed between the mega-giants and over the ranch dressing. Suddenly, a giant hand swung and brushed the fly. It flew off, but I was knocked off!! I was free-falling!! I thought this was the end. Seven jocks surrounded me, but I was no bigger than a gnat and invisible to them. "AAAAAAAHH!" I screamed, all of the way...until SPLAT!!! The world was white all aorund me. I gasped for air. I was swimming in some thick substance that tasted like...like...ranch dressing!! I had fallen into the plastic container of dressing!!! The container was in the palm of Manuel's hand, and he was holding a wing with the other hand, driving it right for me. "STOP!! WAIT!!" I screamed. PLOP *blub*!!! Manuel scooped up tons of dressing, I was in the dressing that BARELY plopped back off the wing into the container. It took all of my strength to keep from drowning in this thick massive pool of ranch dressing. Darkness over head. Apparently, another kid was reaching over, taking the cup of dressing from Manuel's hand. He'd be dunking a wing into the dressing next. Sure enough, an arena-sized chicken wing plummeted toward me. THis time, he got me!! I was still trying to keep my head above the dressing, but I was clearly in a gob of dressing that was on the wing. OH NO! I watch in horror as the kids mouth get bigger and bigger. He's going to take a bite and eat me!! I was able to feel the moist heat off his breath, when I felt a falling sensation. "AAAAAHHH" I screamed. I'm saved!! The kid had too huge of a gob of dressing on his wing, and it fell off, SPLAT, on the kitchen floor. There was so much dressing and it was so thick that I wasn't hurt, even after plummeting thousands of feet. I heard voices chastizing the kid and saw colossal sneakers surrounding me. Just then, I huge mountain of yellow. A SPONGE!! Manuel had grabbed a sponge from the sink and was going to wipe up the dressing (and me) with one swoop! The spounge, guided my the colssal hand, barreled toward me. Oh no!! Here it comes!! HANG ON!!!! PART 5 I tried with all my strength to keep my head above the surface of the 3/4 inch diameter glob of ranch dressing that had spilled to the floor. I estimated my current height at just over 1/16th of an inch: roughly 1,025 times smaller than life. My son, Manuel, who to me towered one and one-quarter of a mile overhead, was about to wipe up the gob of dressing off the floor with a sponge. I felt my tiny body get sucked into an airhole as Manuel cleared up most of the gob with one swoop. I was in a dark, wet world, thinking that I would surely drown. In what seemed like an eternity, I no longer felt any vertigo: apparently, the spounge was resting still. Manuel rung the spounge dry and tossed it over on the ledge of the kitchen sink. A few minutes passed before I began to climb from out of the airhole I had been enbedded within. I struggled to keep my footing as I trudged across the shifty landscape of spounge. Suddenly, a loud buzzing noise came from behind. It was a garbage truck-sized fly! When it landed in front of me, I was relieved to see lift its leg around my shoulders. It was the same fly that had helped me earlier! I climbed up the fly's leg and mounted its back. The fly took off with its larvae-sized passenger hanging on for dear life. The fly zoomed past the ear of one of the mega teens before descending to land on his bare, muscular shoulder. I was too tiny to make out the identity of these giants easily, but it may have been Roberto. The fly scurried along the solid muscle and crawled down into an 'skull' tatoo that extended for acres down the shoulder. It WAS Roberto! No sooner had I made this discovery, Roberto noticed the tickle of tiny feet walking down his shoulder. He jerked his hard to shake the fly off. Sure enough, the fly took off, with me barely able to hang on. The fly buzzed around the faces of teens sitting on the couch, watching TV. It then veered into the hallway and into my train room. Soon, we were flying over Colby Junction, my new 'hometown'! The fly landed in the town square of the 1:440 scale train model. I climbed down the fly's leg and walked around. I felt only about two feet tall in this tiny model train set. Everything was suddenly oversized as i walked along Main Street. The few cars that were parked along the street towered over my head as I made my way to the model farmhouse, where I lived. I lifted my legs as high as I could in order to climb the porch steps. I reached up to turn the door knob, walked over to a mammoth-sized couch, and plopped up on it. I swung my feet to and fro on the couch that was about two times too big for me. This two-story model farmhouse was barely over an inch tall to regular people, but to me, it was a giant's home! I didn't know what to do. I doubt that they make a smaller scale train model. Just then, thunderous sound shook the my model house. To my horror, five of the teens were stomping into my train room and were headed right for Colby Junction! They acted as if they owned the place, thumbing through my model train magazines (snorting with contempt and murmuring "loser" as they tossed them to the floor) and messing around with my other model train. As soon as they all made it to Colby Junction, a voice thundered from overhead: "Look at this!" One of the black teens had bellowed this (his voice rang in my ears) as he surveyed the model town of Colby Junction, which filled and four foot by six foot area on a couple of card tables pushed up together. I crawled upstairs to my bedroom and crept out onto the balcony outside the window. I figured I wouldn't be seen as long as I made no quick moves. All I could see were five colossal torsos, three of which were bare, towered thousands of feet overhead. Hills of chisled abs greeted my eyes. As I looked up to there faces, it looked as though I was surrounded my a colossal "boy-band" or the cast of "Dawson's Creek": five colossal, very handsome teen athletes surrounded the tiny train village. I've never seen anything like it. From their belly buttons to their faces was nearly 3,000 feet to me. Their high-top basketball shoes would tower over the village like hulky, massive skyscrappers. With one of their hands, they could level half of Colby Junction! Suddenly, a massive thumb and forefinger (at least fifty feet thick with fingernails larger than a basketball court, reach toward one of the trees in my "front yard" Oh no!! The mega-giant was going to pull up my oak tree! I know it's fake, but still, its my damn tree! The giant picked it up and squinted his eyes, examining it. He then tossed it across town, sending it hurling toward the Colby Junction model sawmill. How ironic. A differnt pair of finger pluck the tiny model train engine right off the tracks with the ease of picking up a penny! One of the engine's axles snapped off in his grasp! He also had upset the coal cart, sending "coal" (fine, iron filings) all across the track. At my size, that amounted to several tons of coal all over the track that I now had to clean up. Still, a mocha-colored pair of fingers reached for the bank building, half crushing the balsa-wood building as it was carelessly picked up. It was then dropped right in front of my house! Jeez, all my hard work was going up in smoke before my eyes! Colby Junction was being destroyed by the mammoth-strong fingers of overly curious teen jocks!! Then, I heard another voice. "Dude, look at that farmhouse! I looks like there's a light inside!" After my ear quit ringing, I realized my mistake! I lit a lamp downstairs! This had attracted the attention of a teen that looked like he could pass for the actor, Josh Harnett. With fifty--foot thick fingers, he plucked my house from off its foundation and held it, turning it as he examined it. As he picked it up and turned it upside down, I heard my furniture crash against the inside walls, breaking the furniture and destorying my home! Suddenly, I fell from the balcony! I thought that this was finally 'it' for me! But no, this time I landed...right into the palm of the Josh Harnett look-alike!! "Dude, check out this weird-looking flea or fly larvae or SOMETHING!" he called over in a booming voice to his friends. They squinted, but I was too tiny to make out. Then, one of the kids found my magnifying glass. The Josh Harnett look-alike held it over me and gasped. "Hey, it's Manny and Rob's dad!" The black teen snorted, "Man, he's the size of a damn gnat turd!" I bristled at this remark, but not for long. I recognized the Josh look-alike: it was Brad Coverdale, Manuel and Roberto's oldest friend! Brad's family had lived in the neighborhood as long as we had. I remember Brad as a toddler. I used to be able to pick him up over my head, lifting him to the basketball hoop so he could make a 'slam dunk'! When he outgrew me when he was in sixth grade, he would tease me, calling me "munchkin-man", an annoying habit that went on until I started to shrink and had to stay indoors. But NOW...he was so massive!!! I was so scared, I nearly lost control and broke down sobbing. I was in the palm of a 6,700 foot tall basketball jock surrounded by other 6,700 foot teen jocks; and they didn't sound very sympathetic to me!!! I looked around at my landscape. I was surrounded by what looked like to be flesh-colored, rolling hills. A dried up creek-bed lay in front of my feet--the teen's life line! I looked like it would take a good five minutes to walk across the massive teen's palm. But then, Brad spoke again: "Don't worry, 'munchkin-man'! We'll find Manny and Rob!" He smiled, knowing that the 'muchkin-man' crack would get a rise out of me. It did, and I responded the way I had in the past: I shook my fist at him and told him I "was going to knock him on his butt"! I did this, as a flea sized speck of humanity. Brad and the other couldn't help but to laugh. I guess it was cute of a man who was a mere 1/16th of an inch tall to "threaten" a six foot-four, 195 pound varsity basketball athlete. Everyone was feeling fairly good-natured as he and the other teens walked out of the room, the Josh look-alike carefully balancing me in his palm. The dull, low thunder of rubber- soled high-tops lumbering across the hardwood floors kept me anxious, but maybe I was soon going to be in good hands (no pun intended :) ). PART 6 I was soon perched on top of a peanut on the kitchen table, with a dozen high school basketball jocks surrounding the table. Roberto had pulled out his microscope and placed it next to the peanut. After very careful dexterity, Roberto placed the peanut (with little ol' 1/16th inch tall me still riding on top) on a glass slide and placed us underneath the scope. Roberto could now see me clear enough to read my lips. I told Roberto how upset I was at him having a party, but he said "But, dad, quit wiggin' out! No harm done! We only have one keg of beer! Come on, EVERYONE our age does this sort of thing", while the dozen or so other teen mega-giants nodded in agreement. Just then, Roberto adjusted the power on the microscope again. "Hey dad," Roberto began, "What the hell is that clinging to that thread off your cloth?" I pulled the hem of the tiny piece of cloth I was wearing. I search carefully among the threads, not seeing anything at first. Just then, after Roberto guided me along, I made a tremendous discovery. A tiny man was clinging to a thread off the piece of cloth wrapped around me!! To me, he appeared no bigger than a quarter of an inch tall, as he hung with all his might to the thread. But since I was just a little more than 1/16th of an inch tall, this poor little guy was...was microscopic. Maybe...1/3500th of an inch? A size where a single grain of sand towers over him like a skyscrapper? A size where these high school basketball jocks tower 300 miles tall??? Every one of us was totally flabbergasted. Years ago, when my family and I moved into this house, we heard that the previous owner disappeared without a trace. But it was rumored that the man had an exotic disease that made him shrink away to nothing. Of course, at the time, I never believed it. But here was this poor man...another victim of Scott Carey Disease! What could this mean? What are the chances of both of us living in the same house getting the same disease? The doctors believed the disease is strictly a genetic disorder. But could the disease be caused or triggered by some external source? And was something about this house the source of the disease's trigger? Roberto zoomed the magnification onto the little man. He was grey haired with a beard down to his stomach. He had grown too small to even find a way to shave! The microscopic man was very thin but obviously still strong enought to hang onto the hem of my cloth toga. "Hello down there!" Roberto whispered. "I don't know if you can understand me, man, but I'm Roberto, the son of the guy you're hanging on to. None of us is going to harm you." Soon, I was able to get the tiny man to fall into my hand. Here I was, with a tiny man in my hand, while I'm a very tiny man myself! I squinted and examined the man. He was mouthing the words: 'HELP ME! PLEASE HELP ME!'. Just then, the minute man went into convulsions. To my horror, I watch as he began to shrink more, he was disappearing in my hand. Soon, the poor old man was little more than a gnat-sized speck in my hand. Then, I saw the speck fly off my hand and away, in a flash! The man became so tiny that he was blown off by Roberto's and the giant young men breathing overhead. I felt it too, but it wasn't close enough or strong enough to blow me off of the peanut. I gulped hard. The blood drained from my face and body, turning me into a pale little speck under the scope. My God. That old man's fate would be MY fate!! I would shrink and shrink until a sixteenth of an inch measured miles and that atoms would tower like multi-storied buildings! Suddenly, I could no longer contain myself. I broke down, sobbing away before Roberto and a dozen shocked mega-giant high school jocks. Meanwhile, Manuel walked over next to his brother and peered down at me through the microscope. "Hey, dad, c'mon. You don't know that will happen to you. Yeah, I'm sure it sucks being, like, the size of a gnat. But hey, you may stop shrinking. We'll take care of you, as long as we have a microscope so we can see you and all!" Manuel was trying so hard to be brave and to cheer me up. But I could tell that he was shaken; I could see it in his football field-size brown eye. Soon, Manuel and Roberto both stood up and looked at each other. Just then, a strange look crossed Roberto's eye. He noticed that he was looking slightly down to look into his twin brother's eyes. They had always been the same height, he had thought. Had Roberto grown? Manuel, looking flustered, bristled: "Damn it, Rob! Get you butt into the bathroom. Let's measure ourselves. YOU must've grew a couple of inches!" The boys went into the bathroom. Roberto stood agaisnt the tape measure, taped to the inside of the bathroom door. It read 6'5", the same height that both he and Manuel had been at for at least a year an a half. Manuel, with his heart beating rapidly and growing short of breath, stood up to the tape measure. A kid with short, strawberry blonde hair looked at the tape measure and gulped hard: "It says you're 6'1", Manny!" "No way! I've been 6'5" like Rob for a long friggin' time. I haven't been 6'1" since I was a freshman!! The strawberry blonde teen, who was 6'3" and always a little shorter than Manuel, stood up right in front of Manuel. He was now clearly a little taller than Manuel now. Manuel took a few steps, his Nike high tops flopping along. It appeared that his size 15's were now too big for his feet. Suddenly, Manuel immediately fell to the floor. He sat in the middle of the bathroom floor, his head and arms up agaisnt his knees, and kept repeating: "No, no! This can't be happening! This can't friggin' be happening!" Roberto and the others gathered around the bathroom door, completely stupefied. And I, I heard everything from the kitchen table. My heart sank even further. I felt myself slide off of the peanut and onto the glass slide, which was still under the microscope. Then, I bawled my eyes out. My poor Manuel!
Part 7, added 6/21/03: Several months had passed since that party Roberto and Manuel threw, where Manuel discovered that he, too, was afflicted with Scott Carey Disease. Poor Manuel has shrunk rapidly, much more rapidly than I had. Today, Manuel measures barely 3/4 of an inch tall. Scott Carey Disease has been devastating for a teen jock who was supposed to play basketball at Duke. Now, my poor Manny is almost as tiny and helpless as I. As for me, I have remained at around 1/16th of an inch tall. Manuel still towers over me--for me, a 3/4 of an inch tall man towers nearly 64 feet (to him, I seem like a mere seven-inch tall doll). Manny now wears a toga that his "big" brother, Roberto, tore from his own practice jersey. This has to been the weirdest experience for both of the twin brothers. Whenever Roberto coaxed Manuel into his giant palm, Roberto sees a mirror image of himself, walking around in his hand, barely the size of a cockroach. Likewise, imagine Manuel, being held by a 660 foot tall Roberto--a mirror image of himself. Wow, it really messes with the mind merely thinking about it!! Anyway, since Manny's "illness", he was able to get into the 'Make a Wish' program and meet Jason Kidd and the New Jersey Nets basketball team in New Jersey! Roberto brought his tiny brother over to the Nets locker room right before game two of the NBA championship game. Manuel was pretty nervous about meeting Jason Kidd, his idol. Of course, it was absolutlely terrifying to meet his idol while a mere 3/4 inch tall! Kidd, dressed in his Nets uniform, loomed taller than many a skyscrapper over tiny Manuel. Manuel hopped around in Jason's palm, waving his hands wildly hoping to be seem. Kidd held out of finger, and Manuel lept up and slapped it: a "high five" (sort of) for Jason Kidd! "Dude! I so want to learn some moves from you!!" tiny Manuel squeeked, still excited and full of energy in Jason's palm. Jason smiled, chuckled down at Manny, and told him that he was going to have a model railroad company build a scale model basketball court for Manuel, complete with hoop, nets, and a dozen scaled-down basketballs so that Manny could at least keep in practice. Then, it was my turn to meet Kidd. Jason held the glass microscope slide in his hand with me on the slide. The colossal Kidd was so polite to me, calling me "Mr." and "sir"--me, a teeny, tiny, dandruff- sized speck in this man's palm!! And would you believe, he had a scaled-down basketball court made for me and other 1/16 inch-tall men; he had it balanced on the tip of his forefinger!! As soon as a microscope was brought in, he placed me (on the glass slide) and the microscopic basketball court under the scope. There, Jason watched as I took a microscopic basketball and shot around the tiny basketball court. WOW! What a great addition to Colby Junction!! Oh, yeah. Something else happened, too. Jason Kidd had a tickle in his nose, and sneezed right onto the slide! GEEZ! I though this was going to be the end! A gale with the force of the strongest hurricane you could ever imagine blew me right onto Roberto's arm. I climbed up a giant arm hair on Rob's forearm as the search for me began. Jason Kidd saw that I was blown onto Roberto, but I was too tiny to see right away, even with a magnifying glass. I climbed to the top of a hair and straddled it, waving feverishly. Meanwhile, poor Roberto stood so still, not moving his arm even an inch for quite a long while. Kidd found me, and eventually, I was back on the slide. Jason apologized profusely; he felt really terrible. But hey, no harm done! Well, in a few days, the 'Make a Wish' people are sending over Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam, to meet my tiny son. Manuel loves Pearl Jam, so he'll like this visit. Oh, and "American Idol" stars Justin and Kelly are stoping by, too (probably just to promote their movie). In addition, Shaquille O'Neill emailed us and also wants to come visit Manny here at the house, just on his own! My son and me are sort-of celebrities since developing Scott Carey Disease. Manny even was offered movie roles in sequel to 'Justin and Kelly's' goofy movie and in a future Matrix movie--a story line that involves shrinking! Who would have ever thought such a turn of events could occur in such a short time? Unfortunately, our new-found fame has a dark side. It means that we have to hire security around the house. My wife recieve threats from people who want to break in and kidnapp the both of us! At least I have a fighting chance, being nearly microscopic, I'm awfully hard to find. But it's Manny that I'm most worried about. Lord knows what they will do to him if they capture him!! I'll be sure to fill all of you in on any new events soon. Until later, take care!
PART 8--added 7/1/03: For our protection, the village is covered by a domed piece of plexi- glass. Manny and I are so tiny that we will get blown away each time a "giant" visitor exhales from normal breathing. Also, the dome will protect us from monsters such as gnats or from pieces of dandruff that fall when a giant scratches his head. A microscope is positioned over the gazebo in the town square, while a tiny, wireless microphone is places just under the green felt "lawn" of the square, so Manny and I go to the town square in order to communicate with the outside world. The 'Make a Wish' people have been great. Last week, Kobe Bryant stopped by to visit Manuel. The seemingly three mile-tall Kobe leaned down to look at my son through the microscope. Manuel stood and waved both hands feverishly as Kobe exchanges a few irrelevent pleasantries. However, the visits would depress poor Manny. Kobe and Jason Kidd are guys that he wanted to hang with and go toe-to-toe with on the basketball court. They were interested in him not as teammates but as celebrities down some pitiful kid a favor. Our two- story house in Colby Junction could be easily balanced on Kobe's fingertip. The micro-engineered car built for us was the size of a sesame seed. It killed Manny to be talked to like a pre-school kid or an insect while Roberto and Kobe could slap "high fives" and even shoot some hoops! Meanwhile, Deshawn, our foster son, had been cooking up a scheme to make money off of us. It all started last night, after we had gone to sleep. Deshawn crept into the train room when both the old and new Colby Junctions were stored. He tip-toes over to the 1:2400 scale village in his tan Timberland boots, barely making a sound. He lifted the dome and carefully picked up the balsa-wood two-story house with a pair of small tweezers and placed us in his hand. He peered down at the house that could easily fit within the diameter of a normal-sized shirt button and showed a wicked smile. "Man, I know some people that's gonna pay me three million dollars for the both of you!" Deshawn whispered. I stuck my head out of the second-story window. "YOU PUT US DOWN RIGHT NOW!!!" I screamed, forgetting that there was no way Deshawn could ever hear me. Deshawn quicly placed the tiny house into a ring box and placed it in a pocket on his jeans. Naturally, the two of us inside the house were bounced right out of our beds and had to avoid falling furniture as we rode in the pants pocket of a 15,000 foot tall delinquent. Naturally, things did not look very good for Manny or myself. Manny, who had been so brave throughout the shrinking, became to cry uncontrollably. This was far too much humiliation for him to endure. And he certainly dealt with his share of humiliation. He tried to hang out with his twin brother, Roberto, and their friends. Once he shrunk below five feet, he could no longer hold his own against his six foot and six and a half foot tall brother. Once he had shrunk to four feet tall, playing basketball became dangerous against the elementary-age children. When he had shrunk to three feet tall and around 30 pounds, he was picked on by the local 12-13 year old skateboard punks; being picked up by the scruff of the neck and passed between the brats was horrifying for this proud jock. When he had shrunk to 18 inches tall, he could no longer keep up with Roberto and his friends when they went walking down the street or in the mall, so he had to ride in a backpack. Then, when he shrunk to six inches tall, on his brother's muscular shoulder and he used his right size 15 sneaker for a bed. When he was three inches tall, one of the brother's friends brought over his sister's old dollhouse for Manny to live in while he "thumb wrestled" Roberto (and lost pretty pathetically, even though it was Manny's three-inch body against his brother's thumb!). And now, Manny and I are both 2,400 times smaller than life and at the mercy of a miles-tall foster kid who has turned on members of his own family to assist a kidnapper! What was going to become of us?? (To be continued...) PART NINE Manuel and I were held hostage by Deshawn--each of us measuring a mere 1/32nds of an inch in our tiny, down to scale house that was trapped within a jewelry ring box, stuffed with two dark grey foam squares. The foam cushioned us so that it barely felt like we were moving, considering we were riding inside Deshawn's pants pocket. Over the next few hours, Deshawn made the exchange, handing us tiny prisoners over to some mystery person for a large sum of money. Soon, light flooded our tiny world as our scale model house--barely a half an inch tall--sat underneath of a colossal microscope. A blue eye peered down upon us through the giant cylinder of the scope. The eye belonged to a "giant" who appeared to be a scientist. He was in his late forties and had short-cropped grey hair on opposite sides of a shiny, bald dome. A salt-n-pepper beard--with hairs that seemed at least 50 feet long to Manny and myself--was also neatly trimmed. "Ah, yes! In time, you two are going to make a huge contribution for your government!" What did this mean? Manny and I were going to learn that this scientist worked for the CIA; his name was Dr. Walters. Anyway, Walters was going to try to discover whether our greatly diminished stature was the result of a gene anomoly. If so, they would try to isolate the anomoly and see if it could be duplicated in a laboratory. Long story short--the government was working on a "biological weapon" that would shrink humans; potiential terrorists and the regions where they live, I assume. My God! Imagine ANYONE having the power for that!! Manny and I also learned that even if Roberto discovers where we are-- a very small probability at that--there is no way for us to be rescued. The lab where we were held was guarded by camoflagued, young marines. Escape seemed hopeless. But then, our luck changed. By the way, flies are a hell of a lot smarter than even I figured, and I've worked with them for a while, now! Believe it or not, a housefly we befriended at the house saw us captured by Deshawn and actually flew and rode on him when he met the gov't agents. The fly also buzzed along with the agents and managed to sneak into this lab. The day after we were captured, while the bearded scientist turned his back on Manny and me under the microscope, the fly buzzed over and landed right next to us! Man, it seemed that we were the size of bugs to a bug! The legs on that fly seemed around 10 feet long!! Manny and I climbed onto the fly's legs and climbed halfway up the leg by using the "hairs" on the leg. The fly flew off--with us two teeny, tiny passengers, just as the old scientist turned back towards the microscope. Man, did he let out a cry when he saw no trace of us!! Two marine guards ran over to him and even helped him look . Meanwhile, the fly buzzed around near the floor, swooping by the blonde marine's shiny black boot which seemed to tower a thousand feet! The fly landed on the bill of the marine's camoflauged cap as he ran off to alert his superiors of the breach in security. Hee hee!! (End of part nine) PART TEN The fly soon took off from its perch and flew out of the building through the vent system, as Manny and me hung onto the fly's legs for dear life. It was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and the fly was flying full speed to...you'll never believe it...to Manny and Roberto's high school! The building where we were imprisoned was very close to the high school by SHEER LUCK!! We flew into the high school, right as the bell rang for the change in classes. But then, our luck ran out. The damn fly got distracted by a wad of pink gum that had been spit out onto the floor. The fly landed on the sticky, hilly tundra of an 180-foot long wad of bubble gum. As it manuevered around on the sticky wad, Manny was knock loose. "MANNY!!" I shouted after him. I hit the fly's leg to get it to go back and help Manuel. But the fly must've thought I wanted it to take off. It flew away like ligtening. I saw the tiny, 1/32nd inch speck of a son disappear as we climbed altitude. Then, to my absolute horror, I witness a kid named Brad, a 6'3" 245 pound lineman on the football team step right on the wad with his white, size 13 'And One' high-top sneaker. "OH MY GOD!! MANNY!!!" I cried, as the fly continued to fly just above the head of the other students and as Brad walked on. After a few step, he stopped and picked up his foot to examine his shoe sole. He went over to the nearby staircase and scrapped his sole against the step, getting the wad off piece by piece. My poor son!! I was devastated...in complete shock, when suddenly the fly descended sharply. It was flying right into a kid's face. I screamed and buried my face into the fly's leg. But then, I looked up and saw that the face...was ROBERTO'S!! We flew almost right into Roberto, Manny's twin brother (the Enrique Iglesias look-alikes)!! We flew right by his ear lobe. I watched a 90 foot-long piercing dangle and glimmer in the light. Then the fly buzzed right into Robeto's ear!! The force of the landing knocked me off of the fly's leg. I was inside my other son's ear!! But then I realized what the fly had done...it was commiting suicide for he. Sure enough, a finger that seemed 100 feet thick with a nail (with crud under the nail--sorry, tiny men notice these things) over 150 feet long belonging to an annoyed giant teenage jock pinned the fly. The finger was joined by an equally colossal thumb; the finger and thumb picked the fly up, crushing it as it arose. My fly was gone. I can't beleive the sensless loss of life at this point. Thank God I would be spared. At 1/32nds of an inch, my teeny tiny little feet are too light to be noticed. I have an opportunity to get help! And I think that fly knew it somehow! All I have to do is to climb into the huge cavern of Roberto's ear, yell into his eardrum, and be discovered!!! I soon began my trek, my journey hindered by Roberto's lack of grooming when it comes to washing the wax out of his ears, into my teenage son's inner ear. The cavern of an earhole was as black as pitch as I entered. Hopefully, I wouldn't need too much light or travel too far before Roberto could hear me. "ROBERTO!! ROBERTO!!" I shouted at the top of my voice. No luck yet. I continue into the dark, sticky cave (God, earwax reeks!) calling Robertos name: "ROBERTO!! IT'S YOUR FATHER!! I'M INSIDE YOUR EAR!! CAN YOU HEAR ME!?!" Just then, a wall of water sweeps in, taking me off my feet. Little do I know, Roberto is now playing basketball in the gym with his buddies (including Brad, the football jock) and already working up a sweat in this gym on a very warm day. A bead of sweat fell into Robbie's ear and was going to wash me away! "HE-E-E-LP" I screamed. Just them, from inside his ear I heard my son's voice, as tremors filled the inside of the cavern: "Dad? My God--DAD!?!"........ (To be continued. Next time...Is Manny REALLY dead) Part 11 I was overjoyed! Roberto was aware that I--his 1/32nd of an inch tall father--was inside his ear and treading water from a giant bead of sweat!! I explained everything to Roberto, who became very angry at Deshawn, especially when he heard about his brother's fate. With the aid of a Q-tip, I was retrieved from inside Roberto's ear. I stayed on the tip of the Q-tip for safe keeping. Roberto and his buddies surrounded the Q-tip he was holdinf out in front of his face, trying to see me. I waved fiercely, but I was just too small to be seen. Finally, I think he did see me. He smiled a waved a finger at me. I must've appeared the size of a grain of sand--but he saw me!!! Brad went back to the stairway where he scrapped off the gum and retrieved it, in hopes of finding Manuel's remains. The boys went into one of the unlocked science rooms where they grabbed the most powerful microscope they could find. But no trace of Manuel was found anywhere on the gum. Just then, Roberto asked Brad: "What shoes were you wearing?" "These," answered Brad matter-of-factly, looking down at his 'And One' high top basketball shoes, "I had just changed my clothes and was on my way to the gym--just like you!" "Take them off, now!" ordered Roberto. Brad took off his shoes as Roberto examined the soles through the scope. Nothing on the left sole. Roberto then examined the right sole. Soon, he let out a quiet cry. "M-m-manny?" called Roberto. Sure enough, to the shock of everyone, poor Manuel was stuck, deep down inside the tread of the football jock's high-top near the front of the shoe. The force of Brad's weight simply forced Manny between the treads of the shoe, while tiny, sticky gum residue held Manny in between the tread, even after Brad began running around, playing basketball!! What a horrific, incredible experience to undergo! Imagine viewing the horrifically oversized world from under someone's shoe! Just then, Roberto noticed that Manny looked even smaller than I had through the scope. He must have shrunk even further--smaller than I am. Manny's new height--stuck in between the tread of his friend's sneaker--was probably no more than 1/100th of an inch (where an inch equals 650 feet!!)! Poor Manny! These guys must seem to tower 50,000 FEET to him!! How scary is that!?! Soon, through a pain-stakingly difficult process of scrapping, Manuel was freed of his sneaker-tread prison. He lay humiliated and scared on the glass slide, way too small to be seen by the unaided eye. "God, he's microscopic!" stammered Brad. "Yeah", agreed Roberto, then, while looking down at the glass slide at appoximately where he thought Manny laid, said: "Guess it would be bad to tell him that he was selected to play in the high school All- American basketball game with, like, Lebron James". "At THAT size?" exclaimed Brad, pointing towards where he thought Manny was. "Oh, Yeah! Why the hell not?" sneered Roberto sarcastically. But there wasn't any problem, though. Manny was so tiny and Roberto's voice too huge that he could not make out words--just a deep, violent rumbling and thundering was all Manny could hear. Just then, into the science room busts the high school principal, along with the science teacher--Ms. Long--demanding what the boys thought they were doing in the room after school. The boys were speechless. Then, behind the principal, appeared a short, bald, grey haired and grey bearded guy. "Dr. Walters!!" I exclaimed. "Boys", began the principal. "This is Dr. Walters. He is a scientist for the U.S. government. He believes that you may have something that belongs to the government of a highly classified nature." Oh-no!! Now what?? How did Walters even FIND me?? Walters stepped in front of the principal. With a sly smirk he said: "Come on, Roberto. You somehow stole something that belong to me!" "Go to hell!" shouted Roberto. "It's my dad and my brother! They're not YOUR property or anyone's property! There are human beings!!" "They WERE!" retorted Walters, "But no longer! They are a mutation, an anomoly, possibly the result of a DANGEROUS biohazard that must be studied! I paid my price to the black kid and he helped us find you! Now, where are my specimens!?!" Just then, two police officers and several marines rushed into the room. "Hand them over at ONCE!!" thundered Walters...
(new--added 8/9/03): Nearly six months have passed...Manuel and I have not shrunk any further; but both of us had reduced down to 1/100th of an inch within days of our recapture. Dr. Williams has been doing so many tests on us, trying to determine what genetic abnormality caused our shrinking. Scientists, by order of the Government, conducted tests on our home. They discovered that radon had been building up in our home. It wasn't too abnormally high, but it would have increased, causing great harm. But did it play a factor in our genetic makeup to trigger Scott Carey disease? Various tests conducted on mice and monkeys have been inconclusive. But no one is sure how long one with the Scott Carey gene needs to be exposed to very slight levels of radon. Meanwhile, another team of scientists have been working on a growth hormone that could enlarge beef cattle and hogs. Rumors have been that the hormone, injected in a very small amount, caused cattle to grow to the size of elephants. Three months ago, Manuel and I learned that the growth hormone would be tested on Manuel. If it makes him at least a little larger--an inch tall--it would make it easier for the scientists working on the Scott Carey gene to experiment. They gave Manny 10 times the amount they gave to the livestock (barely a teardrop's worth), uncertain of the effects it would have on a human. Within 36 hours, Manny grew twice his size (to 1/50th of an inch tall). After getting another dosage, Manny sprang up to a half an inch tall. Then, scientists gave him yet another dosage. Within two days after this dosage, Manny grew to three inches. Then, scientists made another discovery. Manny kept growing, even a week after the last dosage. As of yesterday, Manny returned to his original height!! The government has offered him $100,000 to stay at the research facility for further tests. He still carries the Scott Carey gene. A normal-sized human would make tests much easier to conduct. Last night, he looked down at me on the glass slide under the microscope, where I remained at my miniscule 1/100th of an inch stature. He promised me that he would find a way to steal the growth hormone, bust me out of the research facility, and return me to normal. However, today, we awoke with a start. When Manny woke up, he stood up and banged his head on the ceiling of the lab. He couldn't stand straight up without hitting his head!! Lab technicians rushed him out into a large, auditorium-sized area that had a ceiling at least 25 feet high. Manuel stood to his new height--he had to have been 13 feet tall!! "We've got to do something!!" shouted Dr. Williams. He was freaked out. He should have been--he was standing before a 13 foot tall jock in a "loincloth" -- five bedsheets pinned together. Dr. Williams soon began to gather his composure. "I guess now is as good of time as any to try the shrinking potion." he said. He ordered his lab technician to the lab as six marines tried to wrestle Manny to the ground. Manny, however, was a bit too much for them to handle. A jock who is in top physical shape and who grows to 13 feet and at least 1/2 a ton is hard to take down. Manny threw the marines around the spacious auditorium like rag dolls. Just them, Manny stopped for a moment. He was in the middle of another growth spurt. Now, his head just touched the 25 foot high ceiling when he stood at his full height. The marines ran like hell out of the auditorium. One of them got on the radio and called for back-up. Dr. Williams returned to the outside of the auditorium with a spray gun filled with a clear liquid. The liquid was the so-called shrinking formula. One squirt of this, and the giant would be back under control, the doctor promised. Just then, and massive hand busted through the steel doors and grabbed the doctor by the scruff of his lab coat. Manny pulled the doctor in, yelling at the marines who had their weapons drawn not to shoot unless Manny breaks free of the building. The 25-foot Manny held the doctor by the jacket "Doctor, I want you to return my dad to normal size and leave us ALONE!!" The doctor smiled wickedly and squirted the clear liquid right in Manny's face.... Part 13(CONCLUSION) What followed next was nothing short of amazing! Manny shrunk right before everyone's eyes. Within seconds, he returned to his 6'5" frame. However, in a flash, Manny grabbed the squirt gun away from Dr. William and shot him in the face with the potion. "AAAAH!!" screamed the doctor. The doctor shrunk and shrunk....right down to about three feet tall. Manny stood up and towered over the doctor as lab techs and marines stood dumbfounded. Then, the doctor screamed in pain and fell in convulsions. He was shrinking further and further....within a minute, the doctor was only a foot tall...another minute, he was six inches...then, three inches.... When the doctor finally stopped shrinking and convulsing, he was lost somewhere in his massive white labcoat. Manny, who hadn't shrunk any further, fished around in the coat, he found the doctor, laying naked, unconscious, and a mere half an inch tall. He carefully scooped up the doctor into his hand and studied the older, chubby, grey haired and beared man. After blowing on him for a few seconds, the doctor awoke, took one look at Manny, and screamed hysterically. "Congradulations, doc," began Manny, "You're precious 'shrinking potion' is a success!" One month later, I sat on a glass microscope slide in my own home, surrounded by my twin sons, as they await my slow regrowth. This time, the amounts of the growth hormone are given in very minuscule increments. I have finally reached a half an inch--like that of the doctor, who is back at the lab and is getting all kinds of tests performed on him. Over the next two weeks, the hormone is withheld, and I grow slightly bigger. When three days had passed, I grew to 3/4 of an inch and stopped. Manny was about to give me more of the hormone when I stopped him. Guess what? I LIKE being tiny! I don't want to be microscopic, that's not my thing. But, I would like to live in another, slightly larger, model train village and have my sons visit me! I've found that I LIKE walking across the vast landscape of their palm! Manny and Roberto think I'm nuts, but they reluctantly agree to allow me to stay at 3/4 of an inch tall. I'm just the right size to live in an 'HO' model train village (where one inch equals 7.25 feet). As I write this now, I'm living in a band new Colby Junction; an 'HO' model train village that takes up a third of the room in the house. I live in an apartment right above the Colby Junction general store, a building that's slightly bigger than the model houses but still small enough to be picked up by Manny and Roberto. I have my own pool--a coffee mug with the words "#1 DAD" engraved on it. Hey, I've gotta use my favorite mug SOMEHOW, right? Deshaun had moved out of the house long ago and hasn't been heard from since. My wife had long since left me for her boyfriend, Cole. It is me, Roberto, and Manuel for now. I may be tiny, but I am still their legal guardian. Manuel and Roberto do a good job with housekeeping and taking care of themselves. When they finish all of their work and homework, they take me into the living room and the three of us watch TV. I usually lay on the chest of whichever son gets to the sofa first. Yesterday, Roberto fell asleep on the sofa, with me dozing on his chest. I woke up and climbed up to his face and stood on the tip of his nose, looking down at him. He awoke, and seein me on his face, smiled and said: "You ready to go back to your place?" I nod to affirm this, and Roberto carefully picks me from off of his nose and take me back to my "general store". What a life!! :) From what I've heard, the government has decided to shelve it's growth and shrinking experiment--govermnet budgets cuts, you know. I don't know what became of Dr. Williams. Rumors have it that he shrunk even further. Still, another rumor has it that a disgruntled lab assistant stepped on him. Anyway, information on Dr. Williams is classified...which makes me wonder if he'll try for a comeback. But for know, I want to enjoy myself at this wonderfully tiny size with my two colossal sons. Wait...I hear a commotion coming from the kitchen. What?? OH NO!! Manny just told me that Roberto took some of my growth hormone, to see if he could get any taller and get drafted into the NBA sooner! The idiot!! Manny said he took a LOT of the hormone!! It sounds like Roberto made it out of the house just in time, because Manny says that Roberto's feet are now longer than he is tall!! From outside, I can hear the sounds of neighbors screaming, car tires screeching, horns blaring, dogs barking, and all hell breaking loose. Well, hell! Looks like another adventure awaits our unusual family!! (one that may be told in a "giants" web site or group!) THE END (well, kind of) :) |