Night out
I’m standing up again, towering over all my surroundings as I look around. The sun is already setting, telling me that it’s already late in the evening. The realization that I’ve slept through most of my day as a giant girl makes me feel a little sad. Then I cheer myself up, reminding myself that this was just the first day of the rest of a life of absolute power and limitless fun. Besides, my extended nap has made me fresh enough to be ready for a long night out in the city. I am going to party! I hope Downtown is ready for me. Well, most likely it’s not… but it’s hardly my problem.
I start strutting down an empty avenue, people in the area having learned by now that staying out of my way is a good idea. As I do, I find out about another pretty welcome side effect of my growth. The sun is already gone behind the skyscrapers of downtown and dusk has taken over the city… and I can see as well as if I were in full daylight.
This is what allows me to see them. I feel quite upset, since I specifically commanded them to leave. It seems that they could not do that. The cops are hiding in the corners, in the roofs of some buildings,… A building at crotch level to my right seems to be holding a command post. They are doing a lousy job of hiding it from me.
I stoop next to the building and bring my face close to the roof. The cops realize that their cover has been blown and I can see a couple of them getting out of the spot they were hiding and trying to get to the door that gives access to the building. I easily intercept them and in a second they are dangling from my cute fingers. I lower my voice and address them, as well as their colleagues.
“LOOK GUYS, I THOUGHT IT WAS MORE OBVIOUS BUT I SEE YOU ARE HAVING SOME HARD TIME TO ADAPT. I DON’T UNDERSTAND REALLY… I MEAN, THIS HAPPENED TO ME AT THE SAME TIME IT HAPPENED FOR YOU, AND IT ALREADY FEELS AS IF I HAD BEEN LIKE THIS FOREVER” I tell them
Then I move to my message:
“ANYWAY, LET ME LAY IT OUT FOR YOU: THE WORLD HAS CHANGED NOW THAT I’M HERE TO PLAY. YOU MAY LIKE IT OR NOT, BUT THERE’S A NEW GIANT GIRL IN TOWN AND THINGS WILL BE DIFFERENT FROM NOW ON. FOR STARTERS, I’M CALLING THE SHOTS NOW, SO I EXPECT THAT WHEN I SAW SOMETHING YOU TINIES WILL MOVE YOUR ASSES TO FULFILL MY WISHES. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?” I ask
They do not reply, but judging from their expressions I believe that they had understood me.
“GOOD” I say. Of course, I’m not going to let it go that easily. “NOW, FOR ONCE, IT’S ACTUALLY GOOD THAT YOU GUYS WERE AROUND. YOU SEE, I DID NOT HAVE DESERT”
With that, I bring the two cops I have in my fingers to my mouth and chew on them before the rest of the cops actually have the time to react. They do by the time I’m swallowing, trying to feel the slight difference in flavor. One of the curious things I’ve come to find out about eating people is that not two of them actually taste the same.
I guess that the remaining cops have not taken too well the sight of me devouring their colleagues, since they seem to rally to the one that’s acting as a leader and get out of their hiding, yelling and shooting their guns at me. I realize that this is actually the first time I’m being shot at. It’s not as if I was too concerned about the possibility, but the feeling of bullets harmlessly bouncing off my chin, cheeks and cute nose is refreshing. Then, a couple hit me in the eye and cause a brief moment of discomfort, a tear quickly washing them away. It’s all I need to get upset at the situation.
Without further word I just part my lips and softly exhale, focusing on producing my coldest breath. An instant later, the four remaining cops are frozen solid, becoming nothing more than ice statues on the roof.
I forget about them as quickly as I found them and look down the street once more. My eyes focus on a building a couple blocks down and I cannot prevent a smile as I realize what it is: Dalton’s.
I’m a whisky girl. To be honest, I will drink anything I get my hands of, and usually in large quantities. In the end, I’m also a party girl. But I’ve always had something with whisky. I don’t care that some people think it’s not a lady’s drink: I love it. And Dalton is among my favorite.
So, I waste no time in advancing quickly down the street and kneeling next to the building. I know enough about Dalton to know this is not the headquarters. But when I finish peeling the roof off without even chirping my nail polish, I find out that it seems to be a large enough bottling facility.
I smile and reach for the first cask. I can pick it between my fingers, but it’s way too small. I use my fingernails to rip it open and drink its contents, but I can barely feel it.
Some of the panicked workers on the floor try to make an exit for the door. I easily prevent it by planting my fingers in their path. They seem to be having second thoughts, but it looks like they need some more convincing, so I gently push the leader of the attempt in the chest with my fingertip, sending him on his back. Then, I set the same fingertip on top of him and gradually increase the intensity of my push until he pops.
“I’D VERY MUCH LIKE IT IF YOU STAYED” I say in a mocking tone
The rest of the group does not need any more incentives and go back to the corner where they were at the beginning.
With this little distraction now taken care of, I try to figure out how to drink the whiskey. Despite my size, there are enough casks for a drink or two. I’m just not in the mood of ripping them open one by one.
I start looking around and quickly devise a plan. Standing up after letting the workers know what will happen if they’re not there once I’m back I grab the largest water tower I can find in the neighboring roofs. Ripping it’s top open, I spill the water on the avenue. Who wants to drink that shit, anyway?
A close construction site gives me the rest of the elements I need. Then, I move back to my knees in front of the factory. I’m holding the water tower, some piping I borrowed from the construction site and a few containers.
I’m so strong that I barely realize about the feat of strength my next actions imply. I pierce one of the containers with a pipe and then grab a couple of shelves of casks and casually toss them into the container. Shutting it, I start squeezing, the metal conveniently bending under my strength and breaking the casks inside. Soon, golden delicious-looking liquid starts pouring through the pipe and into the water tower. I repeat the operation a few more times until the water tower, which is about the size of a mug to me, is three-quarters full.
Bringing it to my lips, I take a sip.
“MMMM” I moan. “YOU GUYS KNOW HOW TO MAKE A NICE WHISKY” I say to the terrified workers. “TOO BAD I DON’T DRINK IT LIKE THIS, THOUG” I say. “I LIKE IT ON THE ROCKS”
Without warning, I push my lips out and blow gently at them. By the time I’m done, they are frozen solid. Picking them up with my fingers I toss them into the whisky mug and sip again.
“NOW, THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!” I state