Getting smashed on a Tuesday night was a really, really, really fucking bad idea. 

    Besides the obvious fact that it was a weeknight, there were numerous issues with the fact that Jean has decided to get absolutely wasted this evening. Primarily, she was a Junior in college, and she had a 10-page paper due the next day on Edgar Allen Poe's use of dramatic metaphor to convey mental illness. Secondarily, she was in a terrible part of town- one she wasn't very familiar with- dressed down to the bare minimum. She was coming from the last big house party of the year (a certain no-miss) wearing little more than a hot pink bralette, skin-tight jean shorts, and pink flip flops (or rather, flip-flop; she'd lost one of them at the party and simply gave up looking for it). 

    And thirdly, Jean was a Brobdingnagian. Which meant she was approximately 75 feet tall.

    Brobby house parties were generally pretty mild because of the watchful eye of the city, but this one had gotten a little off the hook. There were rumors the cops were going to show, so naturally Jean hauled ass and got out of there. Again, not the best idea- her sun-kissed Californian skin in plain view to any who so much as glanced in her general direction. Her dirty blond hair tied in a messy ponytail waved about through the chilly night air. Fortunately, putting down three car-sized Long-Island Teas will generally keep one warm in any weather. Jean sloppily staggered her way down the street, desperate for a sense of direction. Her phone had long since died, and she was left without a ride in the extreme rush to flee the police. She was alone.

    Jean suddenly began to recognize the frigid night air in spite of her alcoholic haze. Fear began to set in. Who knows what kind of stalkers could be out here in the middle of the night waiting to prey upon her. She carried pepper spray with her at all times, but she wasn't sure that would be enough. Her hopes of finding home evaporated entirely when she realized she was on a completely different street even from the one the house party was on. Tears began to stream down her face, all hope lost and fear consuming her drunken will.

    Sirens. From behind her- blue and red. The police had shown up! Without so much as a second thought, Jean bolted forward at full speed. Her fight-or-flight fully activated, her unearthly speed was only matched by the sheer pounding of her heart. Senses overwhelmed, Jean blacked out.

***
    When Jean awoke, she was on the ground. Her head was pounding with the force of a timpani drum. Reaching a shaking hand to the back of her head, she was thankful she felt no blood. Slowly lifting her head, she attempted to get her bearings- fortunately, it appeared that the cops were nowhere to be found. In fact, she didn't see any buildings for a good while. Jean sat up to get a better look at things.

    The sky appeared much more open here, and the ground more open. Where the hell was she? After further investigation, she noticed her other flip-flop has vanished. Great, she mused, Barefoot in the middle of fuckin' nowhere. But where the hell was nowhere? Suddenly, Jean realized she felt something sharp jabbing into her left hand. She angrily lifted her hand to investigate the source of the pain.

    It was a streetlight. 

    Everything instantly became clear. Oh, god. After surveying further, she realized she was in no field. Glancing down below her, she saw crumpled house, buildings, trees, you name it. She realized that there was a dim source of light- coming from various fires she had started in her insane sprint to escape the cops. Ironically enough, it appeared there were whole swathes of cops dashing around what could only be the Lilliputian city to attempt to do some damage control. 

    Oh, god. Gulliverians where about 12 times larger than Lillies. And Brobs were 12 times larger than Gulliverians. To them, she was a goddess. 

    "I'm- I'm *hic* so sorry!" Jean drunkenly stammered out. But it didn't matter. The damage was done. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Lilly homes had been crushed under her bare feet, and many more under her ass. Jean could see the remains of houses and industrial buildings between her wiggling toes. Her tears returned. Sweet Jesus, she was like a living monster movie.

    Jean tried to stand up- the operating word being tried. Immediately upon lifting herself up, Jean found herself on the ground again, her city-block sized ass slamming into a small suburban neighborhood, utterly annihilating everything underneath. She even felt some buildings lodge themselves in between her colossal cheeks. Now full on weeping, she made a second attempt, all the while stammering out drunken apologies. 

    Still not fully aware of herself, Jean began to retrace her steps from coming in. Her gargantuan bare soles collided with the dense Lilliputian city-scape over and over, furthering the tremendous damage. Realizing she was only causing more harm, Jean broke once again into a full on sprint, slamming her pink peds repeatedly into the urban sprawl. Men and women alike were trapped between the giant's toes, asscheeks, and all over the rest of her body. But she was far too intoxicated to notice that. No, instead the goddess just kept running. Had to escape this nightmare, had to wake up. But in her haste, suddenly she found herself slipping on something. As she fell to meet the ground, she realized what had undone her.

    A pink flip flop.

    "You gotta be fucking kidding m-"

    Blackout.

***

    When Jean woke, the light of the morning sun stung her eyes. Panicking, she sat up as quick as possible- only to realize she was back in her own bed. In her own bed! She was back in the dorms of her college. A light knock on the door stirred her further.

    "What's up sister? How ya feeling?" It was Lizzie, her roommate! "You were totally smashed at the party last night. We found you like a block away and covered in dirt and shit! Fortunatly Mike was gracious enough to carry you all the way back here like a fireman or something."
    
    "Wait, really? Just a block away!?"

    "Yeah... you were asleep, muttering something about being sorry?"

    A breathe of relief washed over Jean. It had been a nightmare after all! She was no world-ending goddess. She was just a college student, content to sleep in, get wasted, and turn in assignments at the last second. 

    "Lizzie, let's go hit breakfast," Jean said, lifting up her covers, still wearing the clothes from last night's exploits. Lizzie nodded with a gentle and forgiving smile as the two of them left the room.

    Completely unaware of the fact that Jean was leaving behind red, blood-soaked bare footprints behind her.