Zack continued to change as he lay there dead to the world. He didn't hear the pickax break down his kitchen
door. Nor did he hear the sound of tiny boots tromping up the stairs and into his room.
The troupe of tiny men were clad in leather tunics with hose in a Medieval style. The leader of the group of
tiny men brought up the rear. The others surrounded sleeping Zack and assumed a stance of being at attention.
The leader reviewed his troops. Then looked the giant up and down. He pulled a scroll from his belt, looked at
Zack, sniffed Zack, and re-read the scroll.
"Yep, one ogre, check," he said drawing a check mark on the scroll and rolling it back up.
"Cut off the anachronism, and net it," he ordered.
The nearest whipped out his knife, and paused. He turned to the leader and asked, "What's his anachronism? Is
that another word for his junk?"
"No. It's his shorts!" bellowed the tiny leader.
Zack remained oblivious.
"Oh, can I just remove them. I think they might fit me," said the one with the drawn knife.
"No. They are anachronistic. They don't belong in our world! Besides they are too big for you. Now cut them
off!"
"Well, they're too tiny for him. What makes you think they won't fit me?"
"They were the right size for him before he drank the drink that transformed him into an ogre, and he was
twice your size then. Now be quick about it. If you dally too long, the ogre will wake before we have him at
the castle. And we have to pick up a werewolf, two dragons, and a-" he paused and pulled out his scroll
again, and re-read it, "A hippogryph? Whatever that is?" He shook his head.
The fat little man dressed in red spoke for the first time, "But if we're not allowed to bring anachronisms
back, then why are we kidnapping these young humans?"
"First off, they ain't hoo-man no more. They are monsters, ain't they? Monsters don't belong in this world,
any more than iPhone's belong in ours. We are doing a service transporting these monsters back to our world,
right?"
"But we are turning them into monsters, aren't we?" protested the red dwarf.
"No, we are not. We are merely doing the collecting. The wizards or witch folk or some magic workers are
disseminating the potion, we're merely collecting the results of hoo-mans who chose to drink the potions."
"They chose to drink?"
"The cans are clearly marked "MONSTER", and they drank them, so they chose to be monsters. End of story. Now
net it and run the pole through the net. We still have a lot to do before the sun rises."
"He don't look too bright. You sure he can read?"
"He's got the head of an ogre now, silly, that's why he doesn't look bright! Now pick him up and let's go."
"But, boss," the red dwarf continued, "If he wanted to be a monster, wouldn't he come with us willingly
instead of having to be netted and kidnapped."
The leader had had enough. He took off his suede cap and strode over to the red dwarf and hit him on the
head.
"We don't have time for this! Now move it!" he roared.
The little men scurried to run the pole through the net, and hefted Zack out of his bed and into the cold
night. The leader had been so distracted by the red dwarf, he hadn't noticed the first dwarf had pocketed the
yellow shorts.