* * * * *

SUNDAY, JANUARY 5, 2014

"And, now we switch back to headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia, where Kyla and Jen will discuss (with Sara Robbins) how best to take care of your little guy this winter."

"Thanks, Danielle," chorused the two aforementioned women on the right-hand side of the split screen.

Danielle Banks was an attractive, long-haired redhead (of the type still occasionally referred to as "carrot-top"), who was currently wearing a sleeveless blue dress with a flowing, knee-length skirt. Unfortunately, the belt that came with it was not buckled around her waist. Rather, it was buckled just beneath her double-D breasts! Giving her whole ensemble a most unflattering resemblance to a maternity gown!!

In the secret opinion of the other two, anyway.

Those other two were Kyla Grogan and Jennifer Carfagno. They were Weather Channel forecasters, like Danielle. They were the same age as her, and just as attractive. But, there, the similarties ended. Jen was a sandy-haired blonde who was currently wearing a short-sleeved black dress with a matching belt...and a knee-length skirt slightly tighter than Danielle's.

Kyla, on the other hand, was a raven-haired brunette who insisted on (and admittedly succeeded at) wearing a bright-blue mini-dress that buttoned up the side. Not to mention; totally ceasing to exist two or three inches _above_ her knees!

In any event, these two were now set to interview an expatriate Englishwoman in a blue maxi-dress. The latter was standing just off-camera. And, when she got her cue, she walked out to center-stage carrying something made of brown cloth under her right arm. While under left arm was a glass jar.

Upon reaching the weather desk at center-stage, Sara Robbins set both items down.

"Welcome, Sara," said Kyla shaking hands.

"Lovely to see you again," added Jen.

"Thank you, both. It's always nice to be here."

"Now, for those of our viewers who might not know it, already," Jen explained: "...Sara is the national chairperson of P.E.T.S. Is that correct?"

"Quite correct, yes. The acronym stands for People for the Ethical Treatment of Shrinkies. And, it is our goal to help those poor individuals who proved allergic to N-zymex."

"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Kyla: "That new weight-loss supplement based on black swallower fish oil."

Sara nodded: "While it's done wonders for most of its users (especially women), it proved to have a unique...side-effect...among certain men."

And, it was at this point that she faced one side of the glass jar on the desk top toward the cameras. Whereupon, TV Camera One zoomed in for a close-up. Revealing a half-naked, six inch-tall man pounding on the interior wall of the jar!

"Allow me to introduce...Mr. George 'Buzz' Cutter."

Sara went on to explain how George had originally been a New York City transit cop. And, how (went not riding the subways in an official capacity) he had spent his spare time coaching youth hockey for the Police Athletic League.

"Unfortunately, for him," she continued: "...he was laid off by the New York City Port Authority, due to budget cuts. So, he decided to become a male spokesmodel for N-zymex. Thereby becoming one of the first (if not _the_ first) to suffer this dreadful affliction!"

"And, now," said Kyla, circling back to the point: "...you intend to demonstrate, for our viewing audience, how to become a proper care-taker for such men."

Sara nodded again.

tbc

* * * * *

"Now, for starters," Sara intoned: "...you've heard of doggie-beds? Well, here, I have a perfect example of a shrinkie-bed!"

She held up the brown cloth item. Showing the interior towards the camera, and thereby displaying both its square shape and yellow foam-rubber lining.

"This one was made from the same type of material as oven mitts and casserole holders. So, it's guaranteed to keep your little man warm during those cold winter nights. And, the foam padding keeps him from doing himself any harm if he misguidedly tries to escape! Observe."

Whereupon, she unscrewed the lid of the jar; lifted the jar, itself, up; and then gently tilted it toward her right. As a result, Little George fell on his butt and slid out. Falling into the waiting interior of the shrinkie-bed.

This, in turn, caused Jen and Kyla to collectively gasp.

"Not to worry. Not to worry!" chanted Sara: "He's perfectly fine. See?"

TV Camera Two zoomed in on Little George picking himself up and rubbing the backside of his Ken Doll boxer shorts. He then looked up at Sara, all set to swear at her as loud as he could! That is; till Jen and Kyla cooed in perfect unison.

"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

Seeing those two gorgeous faces looming over him (along with two pairs of mammary glands that--to him--now resembled the Mount Rushmore Quartet) temporarily took the wind out of his indignant sails. Thereby allowing Sara to resume her recitation.

"Now, as to exercise. Hamster wheels should only be employed as a last resort. Because, those are not only demeaning to shrunken men (whose physical stature may have been reduced; but not the extent of their emotions). They are also counter-productive!"

"Counter-productive?" echoed Jen: "In what way?"

"By jogging on a hamster wheel, shrunken men are merely running away from the truth. Namely; that their condition is a permanent one. The sooner they accept this truth, the better off they'll be. And, the best way to expedite that acceptance is to let them socialize with other shrunken men. Hence, my also bringing along...this."

Sara reached beneath the left side of her blue blouse-jacket, and withdrew what looked like a black cord, attached to a small, navy-blue vest.

"This is a modified version of the so-called 'thunder jacket' developed for Chihuahuas and other high-strung toy dogs. When you take your shrunken man out in public (say, to the movies or an elegant restaurant), simply put this on him before you place him on the floor. The subsonic transmitter, sewn into the lining, will emit a calming vibration. No system is foolproof, of course. Which is why you should also attach this to the hook on the back of the 'thunder jacket.' "

"A dog leash?!" exclaimed Jen.

"Actually, more like a wrist leash. Of the type usually employed by the mothers of hyperactive toddlers!"

"Could I try it, Sara?" Kyla begged (with prayer-clasped hands): "Please-please-please-please-PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE?"

Sara laughed and nodded. Whereupon, she reached down inside the shrinkie-bed to withdraw Little George. The latter tried his best evade her hands! But, Kyla laughingly reinforced her. Capturing the poor guy in her own grip while Sara put on the "thunder jacket" (which actually fit him more like a straight jacket). Followed by the hooking on of the leash. Kyla then placed Little George on the floor before reaching to grab her end of the leash from Sara.

Consequently, Little George immediately tried to make a break for it!

Of course, between the leash and his arms being pinned to his sides, within the "thunder jacket," he did not get very far. In fact, all it took was one gentle tug from Kyla, and he fell flat on his behind.

"ULLLLLLLLLLP!"

Sara looked at her right hand's wrist watch.

"The subsonic transmitter should be plenty warmed up by now. Why not take him for a test walk around the studio?"

"I'd love to!" Kyla enthusiastically replied.

And, for the next five minutes, viewers of the Weather Channel watched a six inch-tall man obediently struggling to keep pace with his sultry, long-legged beauty of a handler. Among them? Danielle Banks; still watching from the Manhattan studio.

tbc

* * * * *

When she saw that George was finally beginning to tucker out, trying to keep up with her high-heeled strides, Kyla finally came to a stop. She then started reeling in the leash, hand over hand. So that George started being pulled toward her like a trout on a fisherman's line!

But, when she had lifted him up to eye level with her, the resemblance changed from hooked fish to pampered pet. As Kyla then positioned him in her arms like a tiny beloved kitten.

"Awwwwww! Are you tired, already, little one? Maybe we should give you some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."

Whereupon, she began showering the shrunken ex-cop with melodramatically loud kisses! Much to the delight, of course, of Jen Carfagno (who was giggling as loudly as the off-camera studio crew). It was, therefore, only with the utmost reluctance that she finally stopped kissing him and put him back down in the shrinkie bed.

Sara Robbins merely smiled: "You're obviously quite taken with him. Aren't you?"

"Who wouldn't be?" the latter replied: "Right, Jen?"

Jen nodded, as well, adding: "It's too bad we couldn't adopt him on a corporate basis. Like some public libraries do with stray cats."

"Funny you should mention that," Sara resumed: "Because, it just so happens that Little George here _was_ up for adoption. And, his adoption was approved by your flagship station's board of directors. With both of yourselves as his approved caretakers!!"

Both women squealed with glee, like little kids unwrapping their very first Christmas presents. With Jen now lifting George up out of the shrinkie-bed and showering him with kisses.

"Welcome to the Weather Channel, Little George."

Back at the flagship station, in New York City, Danielle Banks smiled as the stage manager addressed her over the wireless micro-electronic transceiver known as an "earwig."

"That was a mighty nice thing you did for them, Dani. Recommending them to the board as his caretakers."

"It wasn't entirely pure altruism, Joe. Those two bee-yotches have been making secret fat jokes about me, up and down the Internet. But, when I tell them what I did, they'll owe me big time! And, I'll make sure I collect...at the baby shower."

Meanwhile, back in Atlanta, Georgia, Sara Robbins was demonstrating something further.

"For those outdoor walks, during the winter, your shrunken man can wear this. Orange thermal cover-alls, and a black woolen cap, from the 'Ski Patrol Ken and Snow Bunny Barbie' collection."

Which led to further squeals of joy as Kyla stripped their little man of his thunder jacket. While Jen laughingly struggled to dress him up in the ski togs. And, the only way Little George could mentally cope with this was to flashback to how he had _really_ gotten into this predicament in the first place.

TWELVE MONTHS EARLIER

"I'm telling you, Buzz, that South Bronx P.A.L. team is full of ringers!"

Former Patrolman George Cutter shook his head as he heard this statement uttered by his ex-training officer, Sergeant Aldo Signorelli (NYPD Transit Bureau, retired).

"How can a youth hockey team have ringers on it, Sarge? The oldest kids on the team are eleven years-old!"

"Yeah, but they play like some of those locked-out NHL free agents. Which got me to thinking; you know that website called 'Theparanoidsareright.com?' "

George nodded. Pointedly adding: "It's full of conspiracy theory nut-jobs."

"Maybe not so nuts as you think. One of them told me he has proof that some of those lock-outs have been drinking special protein drinks. Spiked with that new weight-loss thing you're helping to hawk."

"You mean, N-zymex?"

Signorelli nodded: "And, as a result? These guys have partially shrunk! Allowing the South Bronx P.A.L. to recruit 'em for their youth hockey team!!"

George had burst out laughing, of course. Prompting his ex-training officer to storm out of the coffee shop in a huff. And, George continued laughing, all the way back to his apartment!

But, he stopped laughing, later that same night, when he briefly woke up to find someone pinning him to the bed, while someone else chloroformed him, with a white handkerchief, at the same time. Consequently, when he reawakened, he found himself in a weird jail cell. Alongside Signorelli, who was wearing what looked like a Greek toga straight out of ANIMAL HOUSE!

"Still think I'm nuts, Buzz?"

Signorelli pointed to his right. And, George could not help gasping at the sight he beheld through the bars of the cell. Namely; the smiling face of a giantess...dressed like a veterinarian's nurse.

THE END