It's The Little Things

I was minding my own business when I got hit by the shrink ray.
   It must have been some fight between costumed superheroes and a bad guy. I don't know which one had the shrink ray - probably the bad guy - all I know is one minute I'm at Starbuck's 'enjoying' a $5 cup of coffee when BAM!! I'm suddenly three inches tall. About the size of a shot glass, give or take.
   There was all the commotion that usually accompanies a fight between people who wear their underwear on the outside, lots of explosions and smoke and debris and property damage. Me? I was just concerned that someone would sit on me. Or step on me.
   What are you supposed to do when you're shrunk to 5% of your former height? There's no manual for this sort of thing, we didn't cover it in Boy Scout first aid training, we didn't have 'shrink drills' in elementary school. So I was at a loss. My first priority, as I mentioned, was not getting killed accidentally by people panicking. It was pretty much my only priority, to tell you the truth. So I stayed put on the chair, wondering if one of the people racing around was going to knock the furniture over and put an end to me.
   Then I saw her. Slender and dark-haired, and about three inches tall, just like me. Only she was on the floor. Where people were running around. I saw her almost get creamed three or four times, but she wasn't frightened. She was pissed. I could see her screaming at people, giving them the finger with her tiny little right hand, but they couldn't hear her any more than I could. And to see her they'd have to be expecting a three-inch tall woman on the floor of Starbuck's, and, let's be honest, even the most baked stoner wouldn't expect to see that.
   She was moments away from getting trampled, so I did the only thing I could. I slid down the chair leg and ran for her. I tackled her and we rolled under the pre-packaged coffee display, where we hid with the dust bunnies and the dessicated corpse of a cockroach until the commotion died down.
   Of course the superheroes realized what happened and went looking for shrunk-down people. Turns out there were quite a few of us. Like over a thousand. And, long story short, no one can figure out a way to un-shrink us. So we're stuck like this.
   My grandmother always told me there was no use crying over spilt milk, and I agree. If I'm stuck being three inches tall, I might as well make the best of it. So the girl I rescued, Lois, and I are getting married, and I'm running for Mayor of Tiny Town - what else were we going to call it? - and trying to build up an outsourcing industry. On the phone no one can tell how tall you are.
   Not the best thing that's ever happened to me, but not entirely the worst, either. I did get the girl.