The smoke still filling the room, Rick burst up the stairs,
furious at his stepson for making him cause the mess
in the first place. How many times had he told him to
keep the music down? But the kid listened to no one.
Accompanied by a huge puff of pink gas, Rick arrived in
the kitchen to see Brendon making himself a sandwich.
The music was louder than ever.
"What's that smell?" asked Brendon, turning around.
His eyes widened. "What the fuck HAPPENED to you?"
Rick was so mad, he could hit something. "Watch your
mouth, you goddamned kid!" he yelled as the smoke
from the basement filled the kitchen. "You made me do
this!"
Brendon's eyes were wide. "No, I meant . . . what
HAPPENED! Why are you so small?"
Small? Rick looked around, confused. It occurred to
him that Brendon DID look strangely tall. Just then, his
pants fell down. "Wha-- what's happening?"
"Man, you're SHRINKING!" Brendon yelled. He'd never
seen anything like it. Unmindful of the pink fumes, he
stepped closer, trying to figure out what to do.
"That's impossible!" said Rick, but it was undeniable.
He was half his former size, and the change was
accelerating. His stepson, stepping closer, looked
twelve feet tall, no . . . fifteen.
No . . . twelve?!?!
Rick breathed a sigh of relief as Brendon appeared to
start returning to a normal size. Thank god it was
temporary, whatever it was, he thought.
But then Brendon's pants fell down, too. The teenager
yelled as the room began to grow around him.
The smoke had affected him, too.
Rick stopped shrinking at eight inches tall. Looking up
in horror, he saw a naked Brendon approach his size.
What were they going to do?