by JT Pearson
“Wait, Nick! Stop!” John grabbed at the back of their pants. “It’s going to come out! Our penis is back here!” Help me get our pants down!”
They got their pants down just in time and squatted next to the bush and relieved themselves.
“Well, John, it may be in the wrong place but at least we’ve got one.”
They finished their business and pulled up their pants. John pulled their belt tight and Nick fastened it. They got back on the trail and headed toward the city.
“I really was going to kill myself, Nick.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Yes, I was.”
They continued to argue, as they galumphed along.
*
Cedric and his men took Tom to a room filled with machines. They tied Tom down to a table.
“Do you seriously think that this is even going to bother me? You don’t think that I have been tortured before?”
“Oh, Tom,” said Cedric. “You’re such a silly man. We’re not going to torture you.”
“You’re not going to torture me?”
“Not in the conventional sense. Burning and stabbing and such. No. Your torture will be psychological. We know what matters the most to you. That’s where we’re going to hit you. In the brain.”
“Nothing matters to me when I’m on a mission. Nothing but the successful completion of the task at hand.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely true, Tom. And I don’t think you really believe that either. There’s a reason that you had three sets of shoe lifts in your shoes when you arrived here on our planet, Tom.”
“I didn’t have three sets of lifts in. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Back on earth, your people make such a big deal out of height. You consistently pick the stupidest candidates to run your world because they are tall. What kind of a race can exist making such illogical and stupid choices? You choose your leaders by how long their bodies are, and your wives by the accumulation of fat on their chests. It pretty well sums up your people. You really shouldn’t be allowed to survive when you’re that stupid.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I think you know.”
The guards finished strapping Tom down and Cedric threw the switch.
*
Cedric opened the cell and tossed a six inch tall Tom Cruise in on to the cot. Tom rolled when he hit the mattress and grabbed the pillow before rolling to the floor.
“That’s about perfect for you, Tom. You won’t be causing us so much trouble anymore.”
“It’s not the size of the man. It’s the size of the fight in the man,” said Tom, angrily.
“Really?” Cedric stood in the entrance rubbing his chin. “That’s good to know because I’m not very big either. Truly inspiring words, Tom.” Then Cedric slammed the cell door shut with a loud clang. “Good luck getting out of there.” Tom could hear Cedric laughing as he walked away and left the prison.
Tom looked around for inspiration. He hung over the end of the bed and dropped down to the cell floor. He stared hard at the bars for a minute. “Hmmm? A plan to get out of here,” he mumbled to himself. “Wait a second. I’m really small now.” He walked up to the bars and then he stepped through them out into the hall and walked away.
*
“What do you mean? They can’t run for king! I’m the king!” said King Johnson, while he lay on his back playing with a little rubber ball.
“I’m afraid that the earthlings have the right to run for king. And so can Madeline. There is nothing in our laws that prevents a cow from being a co-ruler. Equal rights for all citizens.”
“But the people won’t vote for the earthlings or a cow. I need to address my people. Give them a powerful speech to remember.”
“Trust me, your Excellency. You’re in no condition to see your people.”
The king put the ball in his mouth and started to choke.
“Are you choking? Your Excellency?”
“Aaaa! Ackkkk!”
“Did you put the ball in your mouth? I told you before. You can’t just put everything in your mouth.” Cedric picked up the tiny king and turned him upside down and spanked his royal bottom. The ball dropped out and rolled away. The king struggled to catch his breath. After a minute the color returned to his face.
“Put me down, Cedric. I think I might’ve pooped.”
*
The president sat down on a rock and looked at Maynard. He dropped the flyers on the ground that they had been gluing to buildings. They had been stopping by at taverns and restaurants all day and talking to the regular folks but all they heard was that it was time for a change, and that most of them were going to vote for the ticket with Madeline.
“We’ve got to come up with something different or we’re going to lose this race, Maynard.”
“Everybody just wants to vote for a damn cow. Like it’s some type of party. This election will decide the direction of tiny earth and they want to put themselves in the hands of the greediest dirtiest politician I’ve ever met and a cow.”
“You used to work for Holcomb.”
“That’s how I know just how dirty he is.”
“We need to figure out something that can trump a cow running this planet.” The president sat silently, rubbing his temple. After a while it came to him. “I know what it is.”
“What? Mr. President, what is it?”
“Back on earth, what singular talent matters the most to the American public when choosing a leader?”
“Intelligence?”
“No.”
“Honesty?”
“Of course not.”
“Appearance.”
“That matters a lot, but not as much as what I’m thinking of.”
“I give up, Mr. President.”
The president broke into song. “I’m, I’m so in love with you. Whatever you want to do – is alright with me. Cause you make me feel so brand new. And I want to spend my life with you.”
Maynard joined in. “Me sayin baby, since, since we-”
“Stop, Maynard. Your voice is terrible.” The president shook his head. “That was awful. Don’t ever subject me to that again.” He pulled on his ear like it had been infected. “I’ll just have to sing and you’ll lip sync. We’ll also have to coordinate a dance with our song. Throw in a couple of Michael Jackson’s moves. Choreograph the whole thing. The people will eat it up. That’s way better than voting for a cow.”
“Mr. President, you’re a genius.”
*
“Come here, boy,” said a six inch tall Tom Cruise holding a piece of thread and a stick that he’d sharpened. He carefully approached a rat that was gnawing on a discarded apple core. He moved a little closer every time the rat looked down. When he got close enough he jumped on the rat’s back and held on tight to his fur. The rat bolted down the hall of the castle while Tom bounced along on top of him. When the rat started to tire out, Tom slipped the thread around his neck, creating reigns. “Good boy,” he said, patting the rat on its side the way a cowboy might pat his horse. “I’m going to need your help for a while. First we’ve got to get out of here and find my friend John.” Tom rode around for some time before he found an exit. He watched people passing in and out of the great structure. When the opportunity presented itself Tom rode the rat out of the castle and into the city.
Tom rode through the streets, avoiding view, ducking into hiding places with the rat whenever necessary. He allowed the rat to take a break and lap some water from a puddle. Suddenly he saw the reflection of a group of the king’s guards standing behind them. He spun the rat around and charged the men. He got to the first guard and stabbed him in the foot. The man howled and drew his sword out of reflex. Several of his men drew their swords and stepped forward but the guard put his hand out, signaling them to fall back.
“Get off the rat, tiny Tom. We’re taking you back to the castle.”
“You’ll have to kill me before you’ll
get me back in captivity,” said Tom, defiantly.
“Mr. Cruise, be reasonable. All I’d have to do is step on you to accomplish that,” said the guard.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said two voices simultaneously from behind the king’s guards.
When the guard that was standing over Tom turned around, Tom could see Nickvolta standing, both fists clenched and ready for a fight. One of the king’s guards ran at him and Nickvolta leaned back and kicked him in the groin with their Thunderfoot so hard that the man flew through the air and dropped in the clearing twenty five feet away. The man was in tremendous agony, rolling around, holding his privates. One man after the next charged Nickvolta and was met with the same fate. Nickvolta never even bothered to throw a punch, their huge foot finding one groin after the next, men flying through the air like soccer balls at a practice. Soon there was a pile of writhing men holding their groins.
“Tom, you look smaller,” said Nick.
“What the hell did you guys do?” asked Tom, staring wide eyed at their mutant body. “And what are you doing here, Nick?”
“Maybe we should get out of here first and explain when we get the chance,” offered John.
*
Nickvolta and tiny Tom snuck up on the castle and stopped in some bushes to survey for guards.
“There’s going to be an election tomorrow for king of tiny earth,” said Tom. “Holcomb is running, and his running mate is a cow.”
“A fat person or a real cow?” asked John.
“No. A real cow name Madeline,” answered Tom, as he stroked the hair of his trustworthy steed. “There are also two women running for the position. One of them’s really hideous.”
“So, what are we doing here?” asked Nick. “Are we going to assassinate the king so that he can’t win?”
“Normally, that would be the case,” said Tom.
“What’s wrong with that plan now?” asked John.
“The king turned into a baby.”
“He’s really upset?” Nick tried to clarify.
“No. He’s a tiny helpless baby,” answered Tom.
“That would make him way easier to kill,” argued Nick.
“No way, Cage. He’s way too cute for that. I’d never get the image of killing someone with such chubby cute cheeks out of my mind. We’re not killing him,” said Tom.
“Then, what’s the plan?”asked John.
“We’re just going to kidnap him. Maybe play with him for the day and then return him to the castle after he can’t be the ruler of the planet anymore.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Said Nick, and John agreed.
*
The next morning, the morning of the election, Tom and Nickvolta snuck into the castle. They made their way quietly past the guards to the king’s chambers. They stood outside the door listening for any sounds. When they didn’t detect any noise coming from within, they carefully opened the door and snuck in. Tom signaled Nickvolta to wait near the door while he made his way to the king’s bed. When he got to the bed he grabbed the blanket and pulled himself up to the mattress. The bed was empty.
“He’s already gone,” Tom said to Nickvolta. “They must’ve figured that someone might try to sabotage his chances and they left earlier from a secret exit.
“What are we going to do,” asked Nick.
“Nothing we can do. Let’s get to the public square and see how this unfolds.”
*
Tom and Nickvolta arrived at the town square and the election process was underway. A crowd of people watched on as President Pierce and Maynard danced and sang Al Green’s famous song. When it was over they took their bows to a smattering of applause. Then Cedric climbed up on the stage with King Johnson in a little basket. He explained to the crowd that the king had become a little baby. Then he let everyone look at him. They oohed and awed. The king was all bundled up and looked incredibly cute. Possibly irresistible, Holcomb feared.
Then Holcomb and Madeline took the stage.
“All of the votes have been tallied and we’re ready to announce who the new ruler of tiny earth is going to be!” yelled Holcomb, excitedly.
“But how can that be?” asked a middle aged man with a unibrow. “Hardly anyone has even voted.”
“Projections, my good man. My assistant Harry Bladder and Rufus,” Holcomb said, pointing to his lawyer and his henchman, “have taken a percentage of the votes already cast and counted them, and they’re certain of the outcome. There is no need for further tallying. It’s tremendously convenient.”
“What if the percentage is wrong?” asked the man. “Can’t we just wait until everyone has voted and count all of the votes?”
Holcomb shook his head. He nodded to Bladder and Bladder nodded to the big bald man. The bald man made his way toward the man with the unibrow. Rufus picked the man up and put him under his arm, but when he attempted to carry him away Luigi cut him off, the king’s guards standing behind him.
“There will be no election here today,” said Luigi to the crowd.
The president and Maynard stepped forward and removed their wigs. The crowd gasped. Tom rode forward on his rat and Nickvolta followed.
“Daniel, of the king’s guards will temporarily take over,” Luigi went on. “One month from now he will arrange for the people of tiny earth to have an honest election. I’ve been studying your technology since we arrived and I’ve fixed the particle relocater. All of us earthlings are going to return to our planet. I’ve made a treaty with Daniel that the new king will need to honor. Tiny earth is not to interfere with earth any longer. You choose the way that you want to live and we will choose how we want to live. I’m going to restore King Johnson to his natural age. When you people have your vote you can choose him for your king again if you want to.”
“What about me, Luigi?” Tom asked, looking up at him from his rat. Luigi looked down with a startle.
“Yeah, Tom. I can fix that too.” He looked at Nickvolta and cringed. “And you two, I’ll separate you again,” said Luigi.
“No thanks, Luigi. We’ve gotten really fond of each other,” said Nick.
“We like being morphed into one super human. Besides, think of the box office draw back home,” added John.
“I’m sure ready to go home,” said the president. “This has been the weirdest experience I can imagine.
“Not me,” said Maynard. “I think I’ve finally come to terms with who I am. I know my identity now. I’m a big boned woman on tiny earth. I’m staying.”
The president clapped Maynard on the shoulder.
*
The committee from earth said their good byes to the new friends they had made. Luigi fired up the particle relocater and then Maynard manned the controls since he was staying behind. The people of tiny earth waved as the earthlings started to glow. And then there was a pop and they were gone. Maynard looked down at the readout on the screen in front of him.
“Five of us came down to the surface of your planet, Daniel. And then Nickvolta arrived making six of us. The readout says six relocated to earth.”
“Yes?”
“It should’ve said five. I stayed behind.”
“It must’ve registered Nick and John as two separate people,” said Daniel.
“Maybe. I don’t think so,” said Maynard, shaking his head.
“What are you thinking?”
“I think there might’ve been a stowaway,” said Maynard, looking off into the sky toward earth.
TINY EARTH 3?
