Tammy slipped her hand out of her pants once she got outside. She tried briefly to button them back up, but her fingers were both too clumsy and too slippery to do any good. Plus, they were already holding the magazine, a cigarette, and a beer. Who cared about a stupid button? It was too bad Greg wasn’t full sized to help her. She giggled, then felt a twinge of remorse.

“I’m a woman, I have needs,” she explained to herself, stumbling off his porch and down his steps. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Everybody has ‘em. Men especially. But women too. Everyone.” Then, remembering Greg was still with her, she peeked down at him. He was curled in a ball. Poor little guy. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll get you help. We’re going over to Lou’s right now. Him’n Marge’ll know what to do. Maybe even their kid will know something. He’s real good with science, that one.”

She lit the one unbroken cigarette she’d picked up and brought it to her mouth. She inhaled. She looked down at Greg and paused, her brown hair falling onto him. “God, you are all man, ain’t you?” She exhaled and smiled down at him, but he didn’t return the gesture, too busy coughing. “I’m real fuckin’ drunk, ain’t I? I bet you ain’t even real.” She giggled. Then, seeing how her giggles tossed him from side to side of the pack, she giggled harder and harder until she had to put her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

“Now, if I could just find someone to pinch me, so I’d know I was dreaming for sure.” She held her hand over her eyes to block out the sun. “I thought there’d be more people out hunting for eggs. Or at least getting drunk.” She frowned. “You an’ me, Greg; we’re loners. But isn’t there usually some kinda gathering on Easter?”

She kept walking to Lou and Marge’s trailer. Sure enough, she saw a brightly colored egg in the tall grass surrounding their back tire. It was too late in the day for it to not have been found. She paused when she was right in front of it and leaned down to grab it, placing her hand over her breasts so Greg didn’t fall out.

“Would ya lookit that?” she said. “Weird.” She felt a tingling on her foot and started to laugh again. Her eyes still glued to the brightly colored egg, she ignored the bug at first. It was harmless, crawling over and under her toes. She never minded when ants crawled around her toes when she was sitting in front of her trailer. It was like when she was a kid, living in this same damn park. She’d place a finger down in front of ants, actually hoping they’d crawl on her.

It felt kinda nice actually. It had crawled up onto her big toe nail (I gotta repaint those tomorrow, she reminded herself) and started tickling the knuckle. She started laughing harder and wiggled her toes. Why the hell would a bug want to be on them? They were the dirtiest part of her body right now, crotch not included. But whatever. It stopped annoying her and she took another drag of her cigarette.

Then the fucker bit her. That got her undivided attention. She shook her foot to get the bug off it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t an ant. When she stepped back down, she felt a miniscule crunch. She put the egg back where it came from. If she ate anything right now, she knew she’d be sick.

In front of her, she saw another bug. She couldn’t say what type for sure: she was supposed to wear glasses, but who the hell had money for that shit? She was glad she had been able to see Greg, considering he’d been smack dab in front of her. She couldn’t imagine how guilty she would’ve felt if she’d accidentally thought he was a bug. “C’mere you,” she said. She slammed her foot forward, and felt the bug crunch under the same foot as the other. She saw a third, running away. Of course the second the weather gets nice, all the bugs come out.

“You’re a fast fucker, aintcha?” she said, walking to catch up to it. Good thing bugs were so small. No matter how fast they were, you could be faster.  It made a turn around Lou’s mailbox. As if that was going to make a difference. She imagined she would tell Lou later about helping him out with his apparent infestation. Maybe he’d give her a free drink for her efforts. “Don’t be scared, little guy,” she said. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

The bug seemed to understand her. It peeked its head out from behind the corner. “I know I hurt your buddies, but that was just by accident. There’s no reason to be,” (She hiccuped.) “scared. Come on out. I gotcha.” The bug, to her surprise, actually scuttled out to the side of the mailbox. It moved away from her a bit more, but at least it was in sight. Tammy looked down, squinting to no avail. Was she some kinda bug whisperer? Maybe she could be famous. She’d be on The National Enquirer someday. She rolled the magazine up and squatted down. She poked it and it backed away. She giggled. “You’re small, just like Greg, huh?”

Greg heard her say that. “Are there other people who got shrunk, too?” he asked.

She looked down at Greg and frowned, curious. “Are you stupid or something? Ain’t nobody else gonna be tiny too. It’s not really something that happens to everyone every day, is it? It’s just a bug.” The bug started running away again, but Tammy was close enough that all she had to do was reach out and swat it. “See? Told you it wasn’t gonna hurt,” she said. “Quick and painless.” She laughed.

She knocked on Lou’s door, but nobody answered. She’d figured they’d be out. She wasn’t going to bust down two doors in one day. Greg’s place was enough ruin for now. Which reminded her, her pants were still soaking. She unfurled the magazine and pressed it against her crotch, letting it soak up as much of her urine as it possibly could. When it didn’t completely make her pants dry again, she pressed it harder, as if that would help.

She realized she was still turned on as her hand embraced her crotch deeper and deeper. She was practically fingering herself through the magazine and her jeans. She closed her eyes, almost falling asleep where she stood. Greg was right about not having those last two beers.

Greg. Right. She was outside. Not a good place to stand around masturbating. She opened her eyes again. So Lou and Marge were elsewhere. She’d walk to the center of the campsite and find someone. Anyone sober could figure something out. She tried to toss the magazine into the trash can out front of Lou’s, but missed. Whatever. She’d clean it up on her way back.