Last-Minute Preparations

 

“Stupid heels… They’re…too… tight…” Elizabeth struggled to stuff her feet into her new heels. Around her feet scrambled dozens of tiny garment workers. They were older women, all of them Asian, most short and squat and wrinkled. Each doing their best to adjust the shoes, toying with the small straps and laces along the sides of the shoes. A few were on top of the heels, holding themselves up with the same straps they were trying to adjust. A few more stood below the heels’ arches, using tools to make last-minute adjustments to the soles. They looked like insects, swarming around high-heeled shoes as big as a school bus. They were focused on their work, but from time to time they would glance upward, gazing at the princess with a mix of nervous apprehension and awe. 

The princess fidgeted with her feet, trying to squeeze into the tight shoes. Each movement, insignificant as it was to her, sent the small workers reeling and flailing like sailors in a storm. “Come on,” she said, “I need to get these shoes on for the Emmy’s. Get under my heels and push up from below. Come on, seriously, do you not speak English?” The women looked at each other, then reluctantly got under the arches of her heels. To them, it was as big as a proper archway; even near the heel, few of them could even reach up to the top of the arch. They did their best, pushing upward against the heel like the princess had asked, as pitifully insignificant as their efforts were.

“Come on… almost…” She shoved, and her right foot went into her heel. But it was the left one that was being difficult. She pushed again, dragging her heels back and forth a few feet below the ground. 

The garment workers did their best to avoid being crushed underneath. One of them, though, felt her pants’ leg trapped, pinched between the cement floor and the sole of the huge shoe. She struggled to get free, tugging as hard as she could on her pant leg. Then, suddenly, it came loose; the unexpected force sent her flying back. She fell onto her back, knocking over three others. As they struggled back to their feet, they heard the princess say, “Almost got it!” The heel dragged back one more time, pushing against the ground with incredible force. The cement cracked, sending fractures that branched out like spiderwebs. The four women struggled to get up, but they were old and frail, and the heel was moving quickly. 

***

It caught the womens’ legs first, pinching hard against the ground, instantly flattening them. They flailed with their arms and legs, but it was no use; the heel kept coming back, huge and implacable and indifferent, like some huge piece of industrial machinery. The other workers tried to help them up, but it was too late; the four women were already caught beneath the heel. It kept moving towards them, pushing against the ground, and reducing their bodies to a thin red smudge on the pavement. The women screamed, until they had nothing left to scream with. The heel pushed and pushed, crushing the women into nothing.

“Yes! Thank God, the stupid thing is on!” Elizabeth looked down at her feet. She noticed the terrified workers below her, and then the thick red streaks on the ground. “Oh no! Oh no! This is absolutely horrible!”

“What’s wrong?” Said Ted, putting down his copy of the Wall Street Journal.

“Ted, I...” She looked like she was holding back tears. 

“What’s wrong, Liz? Do the shoes not fit right?”

“It’s just that… I got blood all over my new heels! Now what am I going to wear to the Emmy’s? Stupid old women!” She looked down at a few garment workers that were huddled together near her left foot. In an instant, she lifted her foot up, and brought it down on them. Blood splattered out around the sides of her heel.

“Liz, stop that! You’re going to get more blood all over your heels!”

The garment workers were running away now, charging off in all directions, as fast as their short legs would send them. 

“You’re right, Ted. It’s just that I want everything to be perfect for the big night. Do I look okay?”

***

Ted looked her over, starting at her feet and craning his neck back to look at her face. She was wearing a short black dress, tight-fitting and strapless, that perfectly accented her curves. Her long legs seemed to stretch on forever, reaching up to her hips, which flared out just enough. From below, her breasts jutted out like thick mounds of land, making it impossible to see her neck. Her cleavage was deep, almost too deep, but Ted wasn’t going to complain.

“You look incredible. Now… Oh right. I’ll get some maids to clean the blood and entrails off your heels, then you should be ready to go. Actually, you know what? Just leave them like that. It says, ‘I’m a princess. Oh, I stepped on some garment workers? Yawn. Now get out of my way, or I’ll step on you too.’ It’s feisty, arrogant, feminist, sexy. It’s a new look for you: bloody heels, we’ll call it. Actually, do you want to just go ahead and step on a few more of those garment workers? They’re temp workers, so they’re not covered by insurance.”

“Sure!” Elizabeth looked over the remaining garment workers. They were huddled fearfully behind a small car, nearly a hundred feet away. Elizabeth walked over towards them. With each of her steps the ground shook with a deep rumble, the concrete impacting beneath the weight of her feet. In two long strides, she was standing above them. She raised her right foot, then brought it down hard on top of them. With one step, she crushed the car and the workers, leaving a deep crater shaped like the bottom of her heels. In the center of the crater was what remained of the car, a hunk of twisted metal crushed thin as a pancake. The garment workers fared no better. Blood was now splattered along the sides of Elizabeth’s giant black heels. 

***

“Yeah!” Ted said, craning his head back to look up at her, “I’m loving this confident attitude. No apologizing, no feeling sorry that you just killed a bunch of old ladies. It’s like your every move is saying, ‘I’m the princess. I’m big and tall and rich and famous and I can do whatever I want.’”

“Well, I am big and tall and rich and famous, aren’t I? And I do whatever I feel like.”

“That’s it! Just own it. Own the power, the size, everything. Keep up that attitude, and our ratings might get even higher! Now it’s a long walk to North Hollywood from here along the Large Womens’ Walking Path…”

“The Walking Path? That gross, bumpy, dirty backroad? With my brand new heels? No way!”

“Then how are you going to get to the Emmy’s?”

She paused for a second. “I’ll take the highway.”

“Are you kidding? Girls like you aren’t allowed on the normal people highways, Liz. You know that. Besides, you’d kill thousands!”

“So I have to walk on some icky dirt road like I’m a second-class citizen? Weren’t you just saying that I can do whatever I want? And that you want me to do whatever I want?”

“I guess… I mean, you do have diplomatic immunity… Hopefully that includes lawsuits. Hmm… You know, I kind of like the idea. This could be big. I can see the headlines: ‘Giantess Diva Princess Liz Stomps through Highway to get to Emmys! Thousands killed!’ There’d be full network coverage for weeks, talking about it… This could be bigger than the Statue of Liberty incident. Hell, this could be bigger than 9/11!”

“You think so? I mean, I just wanted to take the highway so I don’t get dirt on my new heels. But yeah, that works. I really don’t care if I step on a bunch of little people.”

“There you go! And you know, I’m thinking: camera phones, everyone’s got camera phones now. We’ll have tens of thousands of people videotaping this, recording every moment as your huge feet flatten one car after another. Then we get someone to edit the footage together, and just like that, we’ve got the next big monster movie! We could license it, make it the sequel to Cloverfield, or a gritty reboot of Godzilla, or…” Ted noticed that Liz was glaring down at him. “I mean, not that you’re a monster or anything. You’re a beautiful, gentle young woman. But still…”

“Well, I should probably be going.”

“Yeah, just take Santa Monica, than go North on the 101. Big, wide highway, tons of cars, you can’t miss it. I’ll just call my wife and tell her to take the long way home. Now good luck! Break a leg! Or break some legs!”

“Aren’t you going to come?” She looked down at him with a sad expression. “Don’t you want to come with me?”

“I’d love to, Liz. But I told my wife I’d be home an hour from now, and I…” Ted noticed that Liz was tapping her left heel impatiently. He remembered what those heels had done to the garment workers just a little earlier. “Of course I want to come! It’s just that I’m not sure how you’d carry me there. You don’t have any pockets, I’m sure you don’t want to hold me in your hand the whole time, and…” 

Liz bent down in front of Ted. She reached her hand out to him, her giant fingers easily wrapping around him, enveloping him. Ted could see little of the world beyond her huge hands, but he felt butterflies in his stomach, and knew that he was being lifted up. “Here,” her soft voice boomed. Her hand opened, and Ted felt fingers grabbing him by the back of his shirt. Ted heard his shirt starting to tear. “Oops, sorry!” she said. And then she set him down. Ted found himself resting between her gargantuan breasts, his arms hanging over the top of her dress. 

He looked to his sides, staring at the enormous mounds of soft flesh that pressed against his body. “I don’t think my wife will be happy when she sees me on the news.”

“I don’t care. Now careful, don’t fall. It’s a long-way down.”