That shrinking feeling was intoxicating. Malcolm could feel himself getting shorter and shorter. Soon, he was now half his size, almost a foot taller than his daughter.
His drawers dropped to his ankles, taking his underwear with them. His shirt hung off him like a dress, covering him almost to his knees. He saw himself in the nearby mirror, and he almost screamed. His heart nearly skipped a beat or two.
Malcolm felt himself beginning to sweat. "What is happening to me?" he said. Maybe he thought it was karma for his villainous past. Or was it witches' work?
He sat down and sighed, cradling his football-sized head in his hands. "Get a hold of yourself, Malcolm." he said to himself. "You're just hallucinating. You aren't really shrinking." That voice in the back of his head practically shouted for it to stop.
but it didn't.
He could feel himself dropping down, like riding a high-speed elevator. He felt a lump of panic drop in his stomach. His too large shirt slipped off his shoulder. He realized that he no longer wore it as much as stood inside it. The world expanded all around him. The furniture grew like living buildings in time lapse.
"Gah!" he said. "I'm shrinking!"
how small would Malcolm get.