Rick groaned as his body swelled. He swaggered losing control of his suddenly huge limbs. To his neighbors and stepson, he looked less like a man and more like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Balloon that had gotten caught in their trees and telephone line.
"It's a friggin' monster!" reiterated Brendon. He had been staring like a passerby at a car wreck. Morbid curiousity. It changed to terror, as the head turned toward him and glared with a familiar face.
"Brendan, you did this to me! Insolent little whelp, I ought to..." the giant Rick paused and smiled fiendishly, "Grind your bones to make my bread. Yes. That's what I will do!" His huge paw smashed through the window and enveloped his stepson. He was careful not to crush the boy -- yet. He had to be taught a lesson first. The giant nodded to himself. Something about his stepson's flesh touching his own made his skin crawl. He felt woozy, no nauseous would be a more accurate word. He clutched his hand to his gut, and doubled over in pain.
"BUUUUUUUUURP!" except it wasn't a burp, it was more of a FOOOOOOM! And it didn't just emanate from Rick's mouth, but from every pore of his body. Suddenly he was falling through a huge thick orange cloud. The neighbors gasped for air as the giant balloon exploded releasing a toxic smog, at least that's how Mr. Pryce would describe it to reporters. He'd been safely at home using his night vision telescope about a half mile from Rick's house.
Rick shivered naked in the wet foliage. He slowly stood up, and stared in horror at the giant Brendan lying on the ground next to him. His stepson reached out and grabbed him in his hand.
"Now what did you say about grinding? I think I'll use you, not to make bread my little man, but -- no I think I'll keep you in suspense for a bit." Brendan dashed excitedly back into his house. He was oblivious to the neighbor folk writhing on the grass and street. They all had headaches and nausea, and their bodies felt like they were churning inside.
Mr. Pryce dialed 911. He still had a rotary phone. The telephone company charged him extra each month for it, but he did't care. In fact, it was a matter of pride that he still had a rotary phone. He had done the neighborly thing and called it in, now he headed back to watch his late night talk show. He frowned, he'd already missed the monologue.