You open your eyes after several long seconds of sitting there.
What a perfectly wonderful practical joke this girl has played on me, you think. Shrinking indeed - what utter nonsense!
You have to admit, she's got a solid poker face - she's yet to crack a smile at your expense or otherwise own up to the joke. Well, enough is enough.
"Look, I've had a wonderful time helping you live out your fantasy. . . "
"I don't get it. It should have worked," she says with a dejected face. Her eyes sink to the floor.
You stand up walking around the kitchen table, stopping in front of her. You put your hands on her shoulders, attempting to give some sort of comfort. If she's going to keep the act up, you might as well play along.
"I'm sure you'll work all the bugs out of this," you manage to say with a straight face.
She nods, never lifting her eyes from the floor.
"Here's to your success!" you say, lofting the half full glass in the air. You manage to down it in one swift gulp, setting the glass to the table. "Now, why don't you just go home and . . .
The last word catches in your throat. The world spins around you as vertigo claims you - Alfred Hitchcock would be proud. You sink to your knees - at least you THINK you do, as you see Shyanne's waist pass your line of sight. A shudder runs through you as you realize that - no, you still remain on your feet.
It's working! It's actually working!
You close your eyes, attempting to make sense of the swirling madness, the throbbing in your head. Desperate for relief, you find yourself a seat. Eventually the cacophony subsides, the dull ache retreats. You slowly arch your back, straightening yourself. Fully erect, you slowly open your eyes.
Before you lies a vast plain of black and white checkerboards. The pattern stretched as far as the eye can see. To your left is the limitless underside of the kitchen table. Every imperfection, gouge, every wad of bubble gum stands out like a beacon. Surrounding it are titanic wicker chairs.
Above you - a chuckle.
You cast your eyes skyward to a massive face staring back at you. Your gaze follows down her torso, a vast leg behind you, a field of flesh - her foot.
Oh my god, you suddenly realize, I am sitting on her big toe!
"Oh boy!" you mutter.
"Hey! It DID work!"
You look down at your hand, fingers splayed. Suddenly a beeping from your wrist interrupts your train of thought.
"My watch?" you mutter.
And then it dawns upon you - all your clothes shrunk along with you! Before you can contemplate further, a immense hand scoops you up. Her fingers uncurl, revealing you in the center of her palm.
Shyanne pulls out a ruler.
"Cool!" she says, holding it next to you. "About one inch!"
"You can get me back to normal, right?"
"Nope."
"But you said it was harmless!"
"You're not injured are you?"
"Well, no - but I don't call this harmless!"
You sit there, legs crossed, arms folded across your chest. A scowl darkens your face, as you stare at the lines in her skin. Suddenly, it grips you again.
The vertigo.
The waves of nausea subside much faster this time. But when your sense return, instead of a criss-cross of lines, only one line remains. You look up - a titanic eye blinks, the eyeball fluttering back and forth, trying to find you.
"Hey! Where'd you go?" She stops, blinking - a wave or realization crosses her face. "Oh, right - the second half of the mixture! You weren't suppose to have two doses, you know."
"Thanks for the warning," you say, knowing full well she can't even begin to hear you.
"Well, look - I'm going back to the lab. I've got some microscopes and stuff there - I should be able to find you. Just hang on and enjoy the ride!"