"How It Happened"
It was a beautiful May morning. The birds were singing and the flowers were blooming and everything that could be spring‑like, was. I was in Biology class, working on some assignment or other. I hated 7th grade Biology, mainly because my teacher was an idiot who never dared to deviate from the text for any reason. I mean, if a new scientific discovery came to light, and it wasn’t in our textbook, we were to ignore it. That alone didn’t make him an idiot, but the fact that our texts were already 15 years out-of-date, did.
I was roused from my work by what felt like a hot breath on the back of my neck. Turning around, I had hoped to see Melissa blowing on that particular area (especially since I’d had a crush on her since the third grade...and the years had thus far been very good to her). When I anxiously turned around, all I caught was the fleeting glimpse of a bright green flash and then nothing else.
I looked around the room only to find everyone else still busily occupied with their work. I leaned over to my friend Paul and whispered to him.
“Did you see that flash?”
“What?” he asked startled, looking up from his assignment.
He hated being disturbed while in Biology class. He was planning on going pre‑Med in college and felt that any disruptions would ruin his chances. I don’t know why he liked to worry for no reason like that; his “A’s” were straighter than the Washington Monument.
“Did you just see that bright green flash,” I repeated.
“Leave me alone,” he grumbled.
“Mr. Weisberg!” started Mr. Casper, “Do we have a problem?”
“No, sir,” I replied, leaning back into my chair.
“Then please resume your work...quietly.”
To fully appreciate Mr. Casper, one had to keep in mind that he only watched public television and then only if the show had been produced in Britain. In short, the man was snooty.
Anyway, evidently I was the only one who had seen the bright green flash. So, going on the assumption that it was probably the reflection from a passing car or something, I went back to my work.
The bell rang.
I gathered up my books and headed for my locker. As I shoving them (oh-so meticulously) into my locker, I felt another hot blast on the back of my neck. This time, it was unexplainably different from the first one.
“This one must be Melissa,” I thought.
Spinning around again in hopeful anticipation (it was one heck of a crush) I again caught the fleeting glimpse of the bright green flash. Then, like a rush of thunder, everything seemed to get very loud, as if suddenly amplified.
“What the hell!?” I shouted aloud.
Turning back to my locker I found that I could no longer reach the top of it. For that matter, I could no longer even reach into it. Looking around I panicked, as I began to see nothing but ankles—giant ankles! It was as if I was only one inch tall!
Diving out of the way to avoid being trampled by a very large Reebok, I found myself suddenly flying through the air. The curious thing about it was that Mr. Gravity wasn’t reaching up and snatching me back to Earth as he would normally do. There was no logical explanation for this.., then again there was no logical explanation for the fact that I was now apparently only one inch tall!
I experimented a little with this new found power; flying up to the ceiling, zooming as fast as I could and I even tried a few aerial tricks like loop‑to‑loops. I seemed to be getting the hang of it when all of the sudden I experienced this horrific ringing in my ears. Zipping around the corner, to escape the clanging, I nearly crashed right into an open locker door.
“Whoa!” I shouted, flying to an abrupt stop.
Reaching out with one hand, I grabbed onto one of the open locker’s vents. The dreadful clanging sound finally stopped.
“It must have been the class bell,” I thought, shaking the remnants of that ghastly ringing sound out of my head.
The hallways were now empty and finally quiet.
Hanging on by one arm—and still quite unsure how this ‘flying’ thing actually worked, I attempted to inch myself around to the inside of the locker door. I was startled to find myself staring directly into the nostrils of Albert Einstein—or should a say a poster of Al’s nostrils.
There was only one person I knew who had a thing for ‘The Father of Relativity,’ so I called out to her.
“Melissa?!”
“What is it, Larry?” came a very small reply from somewhere below me.
Craning my neck around to get a better look, I discovered Melissa standing in her locker.
“How did you get in there?” I asked.
“The same way I assume you got up there,” she replied, “you wouldn’t want to explain this to me, would you?” Her voice was tinged with apprehension.
She tossed her long brown hair over her right shoulder and looked up at me with her big brown eyes. We really were very good friends, though I’m sure she had no idea I had a crush on her. You’d have thought that after having asked her to marry me while we were in the third grade she’d have some clue.
Letting go of the locker vent, I maneuvered myself down to the locker edge where she was now sitting.
“Pull your legs in,” I cautioned, “you wouldn’t want someone passing by to slam the door shut and amputate them like Play-dough, would you?” I smiled, trying to put her at ease.
“Oh, thanks,” she grinned sarcastically, “like I was saying, you wouldn’t want to explain this, would you?”
“Who me? You’re the scientific whiz, explain it to me. And while you’re at it, let’s not forget the fact that I’m standing inside your locker and you’re sitting on a fluorescent green magic marker the size of a log.”
“Well,” she began, “all I remember was this sort of hot breath on the back of my neck and then a lime green flash. Next thing I know I’m dodging an empty soda can rolling toward me. I must have tripped, because I suddenly went flying into the air—literally.”
“Same thing happened to me—only it wasn’t a soda can but a very large sneaker. I wonder how many other hot necks there are around here?”
Jumping off the edge of the locker, Melissa and I flew into the hallway. We began a low search of the tiled, hallway floor. If others had been shrunk, there was no telling whether or not they had discovered their flying abilities.
Shortly, we came around the corner to find two more open locker doors: those belonging to two friends of ours.
“Lisa! Cindy!” I called out.
“Over here!” came a small voice from nearby.
“There they are,” pointed Melissa, “next to the water fountain.” The two girls had ducked into the alcove during the changing of class to avoid being trampled.
“Are you two all right?” I asked, flying over to them.
Cindy turned to Lisa, “We must be dreaming. Larry and Missy just flew over to us!”
“Cindy, please, it’s Melissa. Nobody’s called me Missy since third grade.”
“Sorry.”
“Forget about that,” interrupted Lisa, “what’s happened to us?”
“You’re asking us?” I started.
“Hey, you’re the ones flying and we’re the one’s huddled next to plumbing.”
“Yeh, how do you do that?” asked Cindy.
“It’s easy,” I demonstrated, “you just...oh, I don’t know—jump into the air.” With that, both girls gave it a try.
“This is great!” shouted Cindy from up around her locker door. “Come on up, the weather’s fine.”
“I guess being one inch tall has its advantages,” I noted, flying up to meet her.
“Three,” stated Lisa, as she joined us.
“Three advantages?” I asked.
“No, three inches,” she smiled, “based on the comparison of my height to Graham’s shoe (Graham was her boyfriend), we’re three inches tall; though I don’t know how I’m going to explain my sudden disappearance to him,” she contemplated.
“All right,” Melissa directed, as she joined the three of us in Cindy’s locker, “let’s try to figure out what’s going on here.”
“Before we do that, we’d better find another place to do our thinking,” I started, “my ears aren’t looking forward to that bell going off again nor do I want to get shut up in a locker.”
“You’re right,” concurred Lisa.
The four of us took off toward the south wing of the school. As we flew around a corner we came across a very odd creature. He was lime green and a bit on the rotund side, so he was sort of shaped like a pear. I judged his height to be about four and half feet. He had a wart on the side of his hooked nose, a long, pointy tail—much like a devil, and he wore a tattered, black, pointed hat like a witch.
“Someone’s a little early for Halloween,” remarked Lisa.
“That couldn’t be Mr. Darby’s substitute, could it?” asked Cindy, in all seriousness. We all kind of looked at her. This was typical for the way Cindy’s mind worked.
“Let’s fly up to the ceiling and keep an eye on it,” I suggested.
Once there, we just kind of floated silently as we watched this creature. He headed down the hallway toward us. When he got to just below where we were hovering, he suddenly surprised us by looking directly up at us.
A blast of stale, hot air floated upward. Smiling, he removed his hat, grabbed his tail and stuck the tip of it into his hat. He quickly disappeared in a bright, green flash.
“Well, I think that explains most of it,” stated Melissa.
“Just what was that?” asked Cindy.
“I have no idea,” I replied in a whisper, “some sort of ‘green devil,’ I guess.”
“Now what do we do?” asked Lisa, taking my cue and lowering her voice to a whisper. I’m not sure why I whispered. I guess just in case the monster was still around.
“Let’s get outside before...”
Too late. The bell went off again, signaling not only the end of class, but also the end of the school day.
“Head through the skylight!” I shouted, pointing toward the opening. I don’t think anyone actually heard me, but they got the idea.
Flying quickly through the open skylight, we found ourselves safe from the bell. The afternoon sun was hot as it reflected off the tar covered roof of the school.
“I don’t think my little ears can take much more of this. Why is everything so loud?” asked Lisa.
“It’s because we’re so small,” explained Melissa, “all sound is being amplified into our tiny ears.”
“Really?” I asked, giving her a curious look.
“Sounded good,” she smiled, “I don’t really know everything.”
“Now what?” asked Cindy.
“I don’t know that either, Cin.” Melissa started, “I’m still trying to comprehend the fact that we’re only three inches tall and flying around like mosquitoes.”
Without warning, everything suddenly went dark green¾dark lime green. It was hot, slimy and rancid.
“Larry! What’s happening?” asked Lisa.
The smell became unbearable as we felt something close in around us. It was dark and the surface beneath our feet softened. We felt as if we were moving.
“What is that stench?” continued Lisa, squinting and scrunching up her nose.
“I have a very bad feeling about this,” moaned Cindy.
Looking toward Melissa to get her approval, I scooped up a glob of the moist slime. Rubbing it between my fingers, I gave it a quick whiff. “Sweat?”
“I think so,” replied Melissa, in a hushed tone.
As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we could make out the lines of the palm of a hand. The rays of sunlight that did get in, appeared to be coming through narrow, bony fingers.
“Where are we?” asked Cindy.
“From the looks and...phew!...the smell of it, I’d say we we’re in someone’s sweaty palm,” I exclaimed.
“One more question,” began Cindy, talking as if she was trying to breathe through her mouth instead of her nose.
“Sure.”
“Whose sweaty palm?”
“Well,” I started, “remember that green flash and the Green Devil?”
“Yeh..,” Cindy replied hesitantly, trailing off her thought.
“Cindy,” blurted out Lisa, “it’s the Green Devil’s palm.”
Even though they were the best of friends, Lisa was never quite able to control herself when it came to Cindy’s apparent lack of common sense.
“Ohhhh..,” moaned Cindy.
“Relax, Cin. Larry will find a way out of this,” stated Melissa, giving me a little smile (maybe she did like me that way after all).
“I will?”
“Yes, you will,” she said, confidently.
“I once read a book about a mad scientist who shrunk these people, see,” started Cindy, “and then he turned them into tiny piglets and carried them in his pocket everywhere he went. He trained them to do tricks to entertain his friends and...”
“No one is going to turn me into a tiny piglet,” stated Lisa.
We heard a shrill, devious cackle. The next thing we knew we were tumbling onto the floor of what resembled a parakeet cage.
“End of the line,” came a gritty, little, squeaky voice; not unlike Truman Capote or the Wicked Witch of the West. The Green Devil removed his hat, grabbed his tail and stuck the tip of it into his hat—as before. And, as before, he disappeared with a bright, green flash.
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