The group moved into a large storage room filled with clothes and shoes. It looked like a thrift store, but at a lab.
“I am not sure we have much in your new size,” said Dr. Pinkerton, “but go ahead and try some stuff on while I go see if Mr. and Mrs. Riley have anything that would fit them. It’s a super awkward question, but…”
Tom walked over to the section marked “S/XS”, shucked off the enormous hospital gown, and picked out a decent looking polo shirt and some jeans. He tried them on, but the polo shirt hung nearly to his knees and the jeans bunched up on the floor and could only stay up if he held them. “Ugh,” he said, “and these are the smallest things in here.”
He waddled carefully over to an area with shoes. “Let’s see. I wore a 14 before, but I’m a lot smaller now… maybe an 8?” He pulled a pair of New Balance sneakers from the pile marked 8, and slipped them on his bare feet. Even still tied, his feet lifted straight out of them.
“Maybe 7?” He went over to the 7s and found a pair to try on… but they were almost two inches too long in the toe and far too wide.
“What the fuck size am I??” he wondered. He found a pair of Adidas slides in the size 7 pile that looked smaller than the other shoes, and slipped them on. His feet swam in them. His jeans stacked messily atop his feet, making it hard to walk.
Hand carefully gripping the pants, he wandered outside to where his family was waiting. Steve saw him first and burst into laughter. “You look like someone dressing up in his dad’s clothes! Go get something smaller!”
“This IS the smallest, asshole!” Tom yelled. “They don’t have child-sizes stuff!” He shook his fist at Steve. “And furthermore…”
Unfortunately, the hand currently threatening his roommate was the hand holding his pants up, and they slid unceremoniously the short distance to the floor. The polo shirt, no longer held up by the pants, fell just a second or two later, but not before Tom’s modesty was compromised.
“HAHAHAHA!” snorted Matt. “Look at that! It looks like a toy! That’s the tiniest—“
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, MATT!” Tom bellowed as he stepped out of the pants and dove at his son, fists flying. Suddenly, he found himself picked up under the arms and hoisted up more than a foot, staring into his son’s angry eyes.
“I’m a foot and a half and more than a hundred pounds heavier than you, you little shrimp. So don’t be trying to hit me because you’re gonna lose.”
Just then a heavy hand fell on Matt’s shoulder. “And I’m five inches and a hundred pounds bigger than you, and if you think you’re gonna bully your dad, I’m gonna make your life miserable, buck-o,” growled Steve.
Just then, Dr. Pinkerton came back, holding a kids’ wheeled backpack in one hand.
“They had the clothes he was admitted in,” he said, looking at the scattered clothing on the floor, “thank heavens. Put this on.”
Tom opened the backpack and took out a pair of khaki shorts, a pair of dirty Nike sneakers, some underwear, socks, and a t-shirt, which he held up.
“Minecraft? MINECRAFT? Are you kidding me?! And look at these shoes! I didn’t even know there WAS a size two and a half!”
“Put it on, we can buy more clothes later,” said Alice. In a huff, Tom stalked off to the storage room and came back in a minute or two looking for all the world like an elementary school kid.
“They’re still too big,” he whined.
“They’re better. And I bet his parents bought them for him—you—to grow into,” said Alice.