Mike closes his eyes and fires the gun, unable to bear to watch, even though he knows it won’t stop the owner from shooting him. He’s got the trigger pressed like his life depends on it, and ... nothing happens. At least he’s not shut. Mike opens his eyes.
The owner is still there, but now, fortunately, he’s about two inches tall. Mike breathes out a huge sigh of relief and smiles down at the little guy. "Not too likely to stop me now, are you buddy?" He stomps the floor next to him just to make a point and scare him a little.
"So what should I do with you?" Mike asks down to him. "I should just stomp you out now and get it over with. But what if I handed you over to one of your strippers? I bet you'd love that, given how you probably treat them all. I wonder what they would do with you. That would be hilarious."
His eyes widen in terror. Mike knows he's not too eager about either idea.