For a certain Phil Connors, life wasn't fun.  He was sixteen, almost seventeen, and life was coming too fast.  In a matter of a few short years, Phil had gone from a carefree child to a stressed out teen.  At this crucial tipping point in his life, Phil was forced to drop his childhood happiness and replace it with worry.  He had to study for his exams, because this is when colleges would be looking at him.  In the next few years, he'd have to get a job, take the SATs, and apply for college.  He didn't have time for fun, and as a result he started to hate life.  And so, on the morning of Feburary the second, Phil wasn't planning on enjoying his free Sunday.  He planned on getting up and applying for some scholarships and doing his AP Chem homework.

Of course, this Sunday wasn't a day that would be normal.  Because of a rare event where all of the Groundhogs in the world see their shadow in the exact same way, Phil was hit by a magic curse.  When he finally opened his eyes on that fateful Sunday, he would never look at the world the same way.

Beep Beep Beep

From a deep sleep, Phil was shaken awake by the screech of his alarm.  "Urrg."  He rolled over and reached for his pillow to cover his head, but his grasping arm found nothing but empty space.  "Uggh?"  Not quite awake, Phil sat up on the endless blue expanse of his bed.  He trudged over to the side of the mattress and reached over the void that split the bed from the bedside table.  

"Where the hell's my...  Giant alarm?"  Phil finally noticed a change when he looked at his digital clock.  "But how?  How is my alarm giant?"  Being sensible, the first thought in his mind was that he was being punked.  "Heh.  Very funny guys.  You got me."  He looked around.  There were no cameras and no laughing friends.  Either this prank was extremely boring, or his first quess was wrong.  Before he could further ponder this, a massive being emerged.  Standing far above the horrified Phil was his massive 15 year old sister, Lydia.  Dressed in her pajamas and with her hair ruffled, Phil could help but stare at her skyscraper sized form as she ripped the alarm cord from the wall.  "Goddamn it Phil," she muttered to herself.  "Every fucking Sunday."  Without another word, she stumbles sleepily out of our shocked protagonist's room.

Phil Connors, straight A student at the top of his class, had only one thing to say: "What the fuck?"

Of course, Phil wasn't shocked for too long.  He was a no nosense kinda guy, and so he developed a plan.  Realizing how dangerous the world could be at his scale (which was difficult for him to be certain of), he decided quickly that he'd need to get someone's attention.  In his house was his 37 year old mother Kyra and his two sisters, Lydia (who we have already met) and Maddy, who was 14.  His best bet would be Kyra, but he wasn't going to be picky.  He had a good relationship with them all, even if he could be a bit distant at times.  So Phil set off, rapelling down his sheets and sprinting across his floor, only to be knocked back by the force of the door opening again.  Phil was sent sprawling back and he collided roughly with a discarded pencil.  His back snapped, and he screamed in pain.  Phil forced his eyes open to see what did this to him, only to get a sight no one ever expects to see.  Directly above his paralized body was the slightly wrinked sole of his mothers foot mid step.  Phil stopped screaming, closed his eyes, and let out a tear as the step completed.  Phil's body was completely pulverized by the impact.  His interals splattered against Kyra's soft sole, and she didn't even feel it.

For a normal hero, this would be the end.  However, Phil wasn't our normal hero.  For you see, his curse is truely frightening because there is no escape, not even through death.  And so, in what felt like not time, Phil's eyes opened to the sound of his alarm as the cycle began anew.

Beep Beep Beep

Phil held his aching head in his hands.  How was this possible.  Was Kyra's massive foot ending his life a dream.  Phil looked across his massive bedspread and decided that was impossible.  So then what?  Could it have been a precognitive vision?  Only one way to know.  So Phil sat on the edge of his bed and as if on cue, the door opened.  Lydia walked in and, grumbling under her breath about her goddamn brother, unplugged the clock.  Exactly like last time.  Phil was certain about it now.  This was clearly the same events as last time.  


Phil knew what he had to do.  He would stay on his bed and wait for his mother to enter.  Hopefully, she'd see him and not end his life.  And so Phil got comfy and waited.  Within 15 minutes, the door shot open, and the massive form of Kyra Connors strolled in.  Phil wanted to scream and shout, but this was too much.  Before, all he could see was a foot.  Now, her entire form was within his vision and he couldn't take it.  As she called his name and looked around the room, he just... watched.  It wasn't until she started sitting down on the edge of Phil's bed that he realized the danger he was in.  She was wearing the silken pajamas that Phil's father had bought her.  Phil had always thought that they were too skimpy; now they took up more space than most houses.  Phil tried to move out of the way, but it was way too late.  The endless ass of his mother landed right on him.

The pressure was immense.  Because of the pillow soft rear of Kyra and the even softer covering of the bed, Phil wasn't flattened.  Instead, he was smothered.  As she moved to get comfortable, poor little Phil was sliced by the fibers that used to be too small to even see.  He tried to scream, but his mouth was filled with silk, and there was no air to breathe.  As Mrs. Connors settled down, Phil's last breath ran out.  He was dead, pasted to his mom's shorts and no one had a clue.

Beep Beep Beep

Phil took a big breath of air as he sat up on his bed.  The last seconds were engraved in his mind, clear as a picture.  He knew that he was dead, or that he should be.  He knew now that this was more than a simple vision.  He should be dead twice now, but here he was, still trying to catch his breath.  He could practically taste the shorts in his mouth.  It was all too much for Phil.  He had a life to get back to, a life of essays to write and grants to apply for.  When Lydia stomped in, Phil decided that it was time to act.  He jumped off the side of the bed and grabbed for his sister's pj bottoms.  Fueled by anger and fear, he gabbed onto the leg right below the knee and held on.  The ride was rough, with her steps almost knocking Phil off the pink fabric every step.  Had she been awake and not shuffling her feet, Phil would have fallen and been trampled.  As it was, he still lost his grip as she slid back into bed, falling next to the massive 15 year old as she went back to sleep.

As Lydia Connors settled down to finish her sleep, Phil sprung into action.  A quick look revealed what he expected: he was under her blankets with her, staring directly at her slightly exposed midriff.  Phil still wasn't used to this whole ordeal, but the crushing defeat he had last time he hesitated was still fresh, and so he began his march to his sister's head.  Phil still believed that getting his family's attention was the best course of action.  Of course, he wasn't sure what would happen after that...  But he'd cross that bridge later.

The trek was long but easy, and so Phil made it to the titanic face without any interruptions.  Standing back from her, Phil took a moment to try and grasp the enormity of the situation.  Even at a distance of 10 yards, Phil could feel the light breaths of the sleeping freshman.  He could smell them too, which helped get him on his way.  Phil stepped up to Lydia's forehead and began to pound on it with all his might.  "Lydia!  Hey, wake up!  I'm your brother, and I need your help!"  

"Gimme... like five more... uhhh,"  Lydia mumbled, blowing hot morning breath all over Phil.  "No," Phil shouted back.  "I don't need you to go to school, I need you to help me!  I can't be more than a centimeter tall, and...  I don't know what to do."  She mumbled a bit more, before flipping to her other side, leaving Phil feeling dejected and with a face full of her dark brown hair.

What was he going to do?  He grabbed a strand of her hair, each one thicker than a pencil.  He was so small, and so far out of his element.  Even with his full strength, he couldn't wake up a girl who used to be so much shorter than him.  Phil buried his head in his sister's curly locks and began to cry.  

He spent the next few minutes like that, and in his fits, Phil managed to get himself securely wrapped in the rope-like hair.  It was a Sunday, so Phil knew Lydia wasn't going to be waking up anytime soon, giving him plenty of time to mope and to think.  And so he did.  At 11:00, nearly five hours after his alarm first blared, their mother opened the door.  Phil was cast in shadow as she stood over her daughter.  "Mom...  Help..."  Phil's voice was weak, even weaker than before after the time in the strawberry-scented hair.  He could only watch as Kyra gently put her hand on Lydia's shoulder and shook her gently awake.  Phil was dragged up as Lydia lifted her head.

"Time to get up sweetie.  It's already 11," Kyra said.  With her eyes screwed shut at the light, Lydia replyed, "Fine.  Give me a minute."  This answer must have been acceptable, because the mother left after hearing it.  As her bedroom door closed, Lydia shook her head in a feeble attempt to wake up.  It was odd...  She could almost feel something fall loose from her bed head... 

As Lydia started to move her head, things began to get worse for our poor protagonist.  The strands of hair lashed out and struck Phil after the slightest movement, and being this close to Lydia's head made her voice deafening.  But the worst was yet to come.  As soon as Phil heard the door close, the brown ropes that held him in place snapped back, flinging Phil through the air.  He had no control over his flight, merely able to scream as the world spun around him.  Within seconds, his body impacted onto a soft pink surface.  Phil could tell that his left leg was hurt, possibly broken, but he had no time to ponder it as his sky darkened and he looked up into the sole of his sister.