Dan's Halloween wasn't going well. The neighborhood's resident psychopath had used some strange device to shrink Dan to a size smaller than many bugs and then left the tiny man after giving a warning that Dan should let his oldest son know that he had been the intended target. A series of mis-steps later, Dan found himself trapped in a building-sized bar of fudge loosely wrapped in cellophane.
Dan, who unable to make himself heard to his spouse and youngest son, found himself crying, stranded in the darkness in the awful stillness of the enormous room in an even bigger house.
The sudden return of light blinded the tiny man as he flailed to free an arm to use to shield his eyes from the brightness. Overhead, he saw a looming form far larger than Pat or Adam.
OhmyGod! The giant’s identity arrived in a burst of recognition. “Greg!” Dan shouted. “Son, please! Look down! Help!”
“Anyone home?” Greg bellowed and let the door slam behind him. The collision of the heavy wooden door against the heavy door jamb thundered into Dan’s brain.
When he recovered, Dan renewed his pleas for help as his gigantic son moved around the room. Greg had arrived bare-chested, dressed in a pair of sneakers and tight-fitting running short. His immensely broad shoulders and slab-like pectorals were stacked atop a double row of impressive abdominal muscles that rose from a tapered waist. His immense form screamed power that made his shrunken father feel more inadequate than ever. The 20-year-old student stood six feet, three inches tall and weighed 187 pounds.
“Greg! It’s me!” The little man screamed until his hoarse voice strained to the breaking point. Despite the abuse of his vocal cords, he could still make words, but couldn't get those feeble words to reach his gigantic son’s ears. He flashed back to the day that he had first brought his ten-year-old adopted son home.
The kid had had some separation anxiety at the time, and in a playful aside at the time Dan had told him that he would look into finding a way to make himself the size of one of Greg’s toy action figures. “That way, you can keep me in your pocket and always at hand,” Dan had joked.
Who knew that a decade later… Only he wasn’t the size of an action figure. He was the size of a bug, and a small one at that, and being in a pocket sounded a lot better than being stuck neck-deep in a piece of melting fudge.
His giant son kept turning his head, scanning the room, disappointed for his lackluster homecoming. “Where the hell is everybody?” Greg said aloud. He had just come from a work-out, which explained the glowing sheen of his sweaty body. He also needed to refuel, which was signaled when his stomach growled from hunger.
Dan’s heart froze as his son turned his frosted green eyes toward the bowl and the remaining individually-wrapped blocks of homemade fudge. Dan felt like he was continuing to sink into the sludge of the chocolate. He wrenched a single arm free of the sticky treat and waved. “Greg! Please!” Dan begged. “Save me!”
“Mmmmm,” Greg said as he reached for one of the wrapped treats in the bowl.
The hand removed the bar from the bowl. Holding the bar between thumb and forefinger, Greg barely missed pushing his tiny father deeper into what could have become a tomb of chocolate. Holding the fudge, Greg used his other hand to peel free the festive plastic wrapping.
No! No! No! Dan shouted his panicked mantra, again and again, as he realized that the situation had become much, much worse. “Greg, please. Don’t eat me!”