"Right ho, on my way," Officer Tyrnblatt said into his shoulder radio. He set picked up his coffee and doughnut and headed out the door. "See ya later, Velma. Tip's on the table. Old Mr. Pryce is seeing things again, better go calm him down."
The Pryce home was dark except for the light from the television in the upstairs window. Officer Nick Tyrnblatt rang the bell.
"Go away or I'll call the cops!" Mr. Pryce shouted.
"It's the police, you called us!"
"Dang woman can't ever get nothing right. It ain't here, but over at Rick's place. I'll show ya, c'mon up, the door's not locked."
In Mr. Pryce's bedroom, the night scope was still aimed up the block. He told his story to the officer, who made comments about "peeping toms" and "not leaving doors unlocked." But there was debris scattered over the lawn, he could see it through the scope, but no people were visible. Perhaps a weather balloon had exploded. Hopefully, Tyrnblatt would be able to spin a Roswell story out of it. That would make up for his inconvenience.
He locked Pryce's door and drove up Maple to the site Pryce had pointed out. It seemed eerily quiet. He got more nervous when he recognized that the debris on the ground were pants, shirts, shoes and dresses. No sign of an errant balloon.
He stepped out of the car and walked toward a pile of blue jeans and a sweat shirt. He saw a flash of pink and heard a squeak. He bent down with his baton flashlight, and balked.
There was his old high school buddy Victor Allgood, he was a grad student at State last Tyrnblatt had heard. It was Victor allright, but he was only 6 inches tall, and naked as a jaybird.
"help," he squeaked.
"WHAT HAPPENED?" boomed Officer Tyrnblatt.
"mike? it's vic--vic allgood, i was home for the holidays and housesitting for my folks when there was this giant...you aren't going to believe this," he paused, "it was the guy who lives there," he pointed to the damaged house, "anyway he kept growing until he just exploded. There was this funky orange gas and I passed out. When I came to, I was buried under my clothing. I'd shrunk. I guess everyone else has too. I just woke up when I heard your car engine." His voice seemed to get louder as Mike Tyrnblatt leaned in closer.
Mike was glad it was dark, and his uniform was dark. Even so he shifted his flashlight to cover his swelling crotch. Macrophilia had been a secret passion of his for years. Now his dream of owning his own little man seemed about to come true. But he'd said there were others, maybe he would get a few little people. He told Vic to stay there, and he'd be right back. He lifted his tackle basket and fishing net out of the trunk. He smirked thinking of a joke about fishing for men.