Fear II

“I’m not sure about this…”

The dialogue between these two is in my head, begging to be written. Too bad real life beckons. Maybe later!


“What are you unsure about?”

“Meeting your parents. I’m sure they never thought you’d marry someone like me.”

“There’s still time, you know?”

“What?! What do you mean? Don’t you want to marry me?”

“I want nothing else in the world. It’s the only thing I can think of right now. But you have to be sure. My parents plan to move here, and they will visit often. Even oftener when we start having children. Either way, they are here, so it’s too late to do anything but smile and talk to them. C’mon, they don’t bite.”

“But you do.”


“They do know we have sex, right? All the time? Day and night? You did mention that, didn’t you?”

“Incredibly, I did not. Not once. I doubt they want to imagine such a thing, when a child of theirs is the one doing it.”

“I know, I know. I’m just… what if they don’t like me?”

“They will love you. Like I do. No, not like I do, with all the nakedness, and the sex. They will just love you. You are lovable.”

“What if they take one look at me, vomit, storm off, and decide to disinherit you?”

“Then I will marry you twice.”

“OK, OK.”

“Remember when we met?”

“How can I forget?”

“Who would have thought a man so small, and a woman so tall, could fall in love?”

“Hasn’t it happened before?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. All you hear in the news is the bad news. ‘Woman eats her husband to get to his money’, or “man poisons giantess wife and sells her eggs to bio lab; had gambling problem”, and shit like that.”

“But we’re not like that.”

“No, we are not. We don’t gamble.”

“Or taste yummy.”

“You taste delicious to me.”


“I’ll tell you a little story, OK? Our story, and then you’ll go out and meet them. Agreed?”


“Once upon a time there was a very small man. He only measured two inches in height. He came from one of the tiny villages in the Dump, outside of town, away from all the big people, but not from all the noise. There were always trucks arriving at the dump, unloading heavy truckfuls of garbage, junk no giant wanted; but all that junk was perfect building material for the tinies. They made their homes with that wood, that metal, that fabric. All that broken glass could be reused; all that plastic, repurposed. It was a good life, a purposeful life. But the little guy was lonely. None of the little women in town caught his eye. He wanted something more.

Miles away, there lived a woman. A lonely woman. She worked with special children every day, and at the end of every day she would come home to an empty house. She wanted more than that. She wanted someone, but every giant she dated was ridiculous. One always talked about his money, and properties. One was a musician who thought only other musicians were smart. One was a criminal who tried to drug her, and hurt her. The worst one was the liar. The liar that made her like him. She fell for him, but found him out just in time. Now she wanted something else.

One day, the little man left town. He claimed he was going for a walk, but in his rucksack he packed enough crumbs for several days, and enough drops of water for many incursions into thirst. His parents knew of his hunger for adventure, and his dissatisfaction with life. They looked at each other, and whispered to each other, “I hope he brings back a wife.”

That same day, the tall woman left her house. She claimed to no one in particular she was going for a walk, and it was absolutely true. But despite the fact that it was a beautiful day, and the sun shone, and every one said hi to her, she was distracted, and kept looking down at the ground, as though she was trying to count cracks in the pavement.

He had walked for two days, and she had walked for thirty minutes, when they saw each other. She had spotted a crick- a member of the Gryllidae family, a tiny brown one, and she delighted in spying its cute hopping when her eyes settled on his manly figure. He stood in place, transfixed by her face. She forgot about the bug, and fixed her eyes on him. They both smiled at the same time, and when she knelt down to take a closer look, and he craned his neck to take a closer smell, they knew they had found each other.”

“Oh, honey… that was beautiful.”

“It’s just how it happened. And yes, it was. Are you ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Very well. Now, open up your hands, so I can get out. I’m still naked, you know? My parents should’t see me like this.”

She giggled. Oh, how she loved him. For him, she could face tiny parents. She could face anything.


So, I was looking into this for a friend of mine, who says she wants to have phone sex with a shrunken man. I think she’s out of her mind, but never mind that. Here’s what I truly find vexing:



If you look at the search results, you’ll see what I’m talking about. My poor friend can do nothing. She is not able to find a single entertainer that suits her needs. I’m very sad for her. Are you sad for her? I hope you are. Sure, this is not world-hunger tragic, but still…


“I can’t hear you!”

Matt didn’t know what shocked him more: to see his best friend drinking, or see the state of his apartment. Almost every piece of furniture was gone; every poster had disappeared from the walls; every inch of filthy carpet had been removed.

“You don’t drink. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink.”

“I don’t drink,” said Emilio, and took another long swig of tequila.

“Tell me what’s going on, man. I can appreciate the spartan decor, but where’s your bed? And the appliances? Even the fridge is gone. You were never much of a cook, but what the hell is going on?”

“It was in my way. In her way.”

“Her… way? So… OK. A woman. It all becomes clear now.”

“Does it? How? Please tell me how it becomes clear, because I think I’m going crazy, and nothing is clear.”

Matt heard those words, and the thought that maybe Emilio was thinking about killing himself again returned. A wave of nausea punched his gut without mercy. He had been the one that found him after all. Emilio lifted his gaze from the floor as he shifted on the couch at the center of the living room, the only remaining article of decor. He turned it to face his friend.

“She says you think I’m going to try to… end it all again. I’m not.”

“Then tell me what the fuck is going on! Who is this woman you’re seeing? She must mean something to you, if you’ve told her about… that. You never even told your parents.”

“‘Seeing’? Emilio barked a laugh. It sounded like a large match being struck; humorless. “I can’t say I’m seeing her. I’ve never seen her in my life.”

“So it’s an online thing. I’d believe that, if I saw your computer anywhere. Or your phone. Your number is no longer in service. I hadn’t heard from you in a week. I was starting to get worried.” Matt was horrified to see tears in Emilio’s eyes. They stubbornly clung to him, and didn’t roll down his cheeks. He could see dying light from the window glinting in them. Uncomfortable, he looked away.

“Uh, could we turn on the light? Shit. Emilio, what the fuck? Where are the lightbulbs?”

“I had to get rid of them. They hide her. They’re not the right light.”

Matt looked at his friend again, and almost reached for his phone to call 911. Emilio had lost his mind. He must have. Nothing he was saying made any sense. The worst part was that Emilio was painfully articulate, carefully saying every word, watching Matt as though he knew how he would react. Those drying tears turned his eyes into cold knives. Matt swallowed hard, and tried again.

“I’m listening.”

As the sun set, Emilio got up, walked over to the kitchen pantry, and removed something from it. When he walked back, Matt could see it was a work light. “It started about a month ago, right after we got back from the concert.” He put the work light on the floor, and plugged the cord into the wall socket. He straightened the light so it would face the rest of the room, and returned to his place on the couch, letting his body drop with what Matt knew was exhaustion.

“At first I thought it was the pills we took, but when I sobered up… the night after that, I knew what I saw was real.”

“What did you see?”

“Her shadow. On my wall. The gigantic shadow of a huge woman, on my bedroom wall.”

Matt’s heart jumped in his chest. 911, he thought. 911.

“Stop it. You’re not going to call 911.”

Matt’s eyes widened, but he looked away from his friend’s face, and glued his gaze on the bottle of tequila that sat on the floor. He reached for it, and drank it long. Emilio waited until his friend finished swallowing with a cough.

“I’m not going to call 911, but you know you sound insane.”

“I know,” said Emilio as he looked at the window. “It’s almost time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time for you to meet her.” He got up, returned to the work lamp, and turned it on.

To be continued…


Happy Thanksgiving Day!


I had a nice Thanksgiving Day, and I hope you did as well. I ate everything on my plate, which you see above, and then I had a bit of pie. I was in terrible pain, but what else is that food there for, if not to hurt you? I remember my first Thanksgiving Day celebration here, in the United States. I was brought a dark beverage that turned out to be root beer. Never have I been served anything so foul, not before, or since. And I used to drink molasses water when I was a child. I drink green smoothies all the time now, but those are delicious, even with the heavy inclusion of fresh sprouts. But… where was I? Oh, yeah. Thanksgiving Day food. That year, or the next, I had my first taste of cranberry jelly. What the hell, people? You can’t do that to me, not without warning.

This is how it’s done:

Cranberry Apple Under-relish


  • 1 (12 oz.) package fresh cranberries (3-1/2 cups)
  • 1 cup pure maple syrup
  • 1 large orange, grated rind removed, and juice reserved
  • 2 medium apples, cored, pared, and sliced (I’ve tried Golden Delicious, but Golden Russet were also excellent)
  • 1/2 cup chopped walnuts, toasted


  1. In saucepan, combine cranberries and maple syrup; bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer for five minutes, or until mixture thickens. While it cools…
  2. Combine juice and grated rind from orange with apples; stir into cranberries; add the nuts.
  3. Chill to blend flavors.
  4. You’re welcome.

This year, I’ve been thankful for many things, and upset about a few. I feel both about the emails from my readers I never answered. Sure, my computer exploded (not really, it just died), and then I lost all desire to blog, but how rude of me. My blogging apathy included never deleting my emails, so don’t be frightened if you see that I’m finally answering an email you sent me in 2011. To try to make up for my rudeness, I will soon include a blog entry with a recipe for turkey soup, and instructions on how to throw away pie. I’m sick of it. I’ve had three slices, including the one I had on Thanksgiving Day, and now I can’t stand the sight of it.

Shrinking Him Again

“You are shrinking, my darling…”

“I’ve always loved the idea.”

“I don’t get it. What good am I that small?”

“As good as you are now. Better.”

“How could I possibly be better? My muscles would be smaller, my penis would look like a toy; I’d probably sound like a munchkin. I could’t even reach the kitchen counters… wait, you said two feet in height?”

“Two inches.”

“Oh, that’s nuts! That’s Lego size. I’d be as weak as a bug. No, I hate the idea. Hate it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore, OK? It pisses me off.”

“That’s too bad.”

“We’ve had a great time so far. I like you. I really like you. I like, like you. Why ruin it with complete honesty? We’ve only known each other for two months.”

“You’ve known this about me for years. We’ve been chatting online for years. And you still wanted to meet me, and then date me. Despite my peculiarities.”

“Yeah. You’re hot, and smart, and sexy. A bit odd, but… god, you drive me crazy.”

He kissed her again. They had been kissing for hours, the dinner she cooked forgotten on the table after he powered up her iPod, and Ella and Satchmo started singing about nearness, and wild dreams coming true. He pulled her up and into his arms, and she had just finished swallowing that last bite, when he wrapped her lips in his. Now they were on her couch, their arms a tangle, their breath catching when they had stopped to talk for a moment. But now she talked into his mouth, as she kissed him.

“Shrink… for me.”

“Stop. No, don’t stop. Just… shh. Let me touch you. I want to touch you everywhere.”

“Shrink for me.”

And they kissed, her lips now wrapping his. He didn’t notice. His brain had no blood to make thoughts happen.

“Shrink, my beautiful man.”

“Fuck- say that again…”


Her lips caressed his entire face now.

“No, not that- wait. Stop! What’s happening?!”

“Shrink… shrink… shrink, sweet little toy of mine.”

“Let me go! No!”

But she kissed him again, and again, sucking in his entire head, and letting it go when the vacuum of her mouth changed its flow on the exhale. His hair was damp, and his face was wet. Her hands had moved to his armpits, holding him as though she was holding a small child. He fought, gasped for air, tried to scream, but she kissed him again, and stole his scream away.

“Shrink for me.”

He was smaller in her hands, and she sucked his body halfway into her mouth, feeling his silken body slip out of it when she released him like a baby being born. His body was limp, but his eyes were rolling in his head, his mouth the tiniest o, as he tried to scream again. He now fit in the palm of her hand.

“My love, you are so very tiny; so small, so perfect. Let me show you how perfect you are.”

After a while, he wasn’t so limp anymore.