While Brett cleared the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher, Bryan and Don took their father into the living room.
"Uh, what now?" asked Bryan.
"I guess just . . . get through the night somehow," his older brother answered. The two giant sons looked down at their father, who stood naked on the coffee table. "Do you want to, uh, watch some TV, Dad?"
Paul shrugged, feeling they might as well do that as anything else. Bryan picked up the remote control, but Don grabbed it out of his hand. "Let Dad do it," he said, putting the device down next to Paul. It was bigger than he was.
Paul cringed at the patronizing tone in his son's voice, but there was nothing he could do. He'd probably sound the same way himself if dealing with someone so tiny. He disinterestedly pushed the power button (it took both hands and a considerable amount of force) and was nearly blasted off the table as the TV snapped to life at a high volume.
"Turn it off!" he screamed, clamping his hands over his ears. His giant sons couldn't hear him, of course, and it took them a moment to figure out what was going on. When he saw his father collapse, hands to his head, Bryan lunged for the remote control. Don did so at the same time, and they ended up knocking it and their father off the table.
Paul landed on the carpet with an "oof," but was actually unhurt.
"Dad!" yelled Bryan. He knelt down over his dazed little father while Don grabbed the remote and flipped off the TV.
"Are you OK?"
A tiny sigh. "Yeah, I guess. Look, guys, this is taking a lot out of me. I'll just go to bed. If I'm not . . . back to normal . . . in the morning, you can take me to the hospital, OK?"
"Sure, Dad," his two sons chorused. "Uh, where do you want to sleep?" Don continued.
Paul pondered this. Should he make the best of things at home, where everything once familiar loomed ominously over him? Or should he request Don take him back to the dorm, where there would be less of a shock of the giant familiar and they'd be closer to the hospital?