It took every ounce of willpower not to crush him in my hand, as he was stabbing the webbing between my thumb and forefinger with… what? A toothpick? Something more painful than a kitten’s teeth, and it doesn’t matter how young a house cat is, when those sharp felines (I don’t call them canines – that would be silly) dig into your skin, you scream. But I didn’t scream when the tiny wretch pierced my skin, and I didn’t squeeze him into pulp either. I gasped and my brain went up in flames from the pain, but at the center of that bonfire were two words: tiny man.
I was holding a tiny man in the firm grip of my hand! But wait… let me back up. This all began with an idea. I was going to watch the comet’s path from my back yard, but light pollution made that a gamble. Perhaps I’d catch a poor glimpse, be able to say I “saw it,” and move on. I didn’t want to do that; I wanted to see it, really see it. I wanted to talk about the comet’s trail, and how I got down on my back and let the Milky Way ride my face for hours. I wanted to wax poetic! I never wax anything anymore.
So I decided to make the two-hour drive to the nearest State Park, sleeping bag and telescope and camera in tow. I parked my car in a nearly deserted lot and hoped that the few cars there were either abandoned, or owned by feeble, sleepy church volunteers that donated blood and plasma so often they’d be too tired to stab me and start eating my liver before I died. I guess my pathological fear of serial killers was also heavy on my back. I ignored it and made the 45-minute trek to the mountain’s rocky summit.
I knew the path, now lighted by torch (no, I’m not a Brit – I just love the word). I walked past the big rock under which copperheads liked to nap; I stepped slowly past the old wooden rail a few people have cleared to end their lives; I listened for mountain lions and bears, and tried to whistle as I worked. My lips were too dry by an appalling fear of the dark. I was already visible enough by sight; I wasn’t going to enrage a serial killer resting nearby by possibly picking the wrong show tune. Yet… what serial killer does not like “Phantom of the Opera”?
I reached my favorite camping site, only a few dozen feet near the summit. I was surprised to see no one else there. Where were the people that owned those other cars I’d seen? I hoped The Mountain Butcher had gotten to them already, and was too full to come after me. Coming up with names for an invented murdered was tickling my funny bone, so I kept doing it as I set up my telescope, connected it to my phone’s sky-chart program, and spread my sleeping bag to wait for the Earth to rotate to the right place. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep.
Music woke me up. A male voice singing sweetly and plucking at something that didn’t sound familiar as an instrument, but did as a sound. There was something otherworldly about his voice, and the song was none I’d ever heard before. When the singing stopped I opened up my eyes, deciding it had been a dream. The comet entered my mind when the next song began, and I realized it was coming from somewhere very close. I ventured a slight head tilt to my right, and saw the most incredible vision.
On the cold slate where I’d laid my sleeping bag, there was another camping site, complete with a fire that was nothing but a bright lump of coal. By it a tiny nude man sat cross-legged, playing the smallest stringed instrument I’d ever seen. He wasn’t particularly beautiful, and his legs and chest were on the scrawny side, but when he sang and smiled, he became the most gorgeous being I’d ever beheld. I forgot to breathe and when my lungs burned, I gasped as quietly as I could. Not quietly enough. He heard me now, when he had not heard my breathing as I slept. It confirmed my idea that he had set up camp at this spot without noticing my huge human lump. To his credit, my spot was barely covered by a tree’s canopy, and the darkness surrounding us was a sharp contrast to the night sky.
He scrambled to his feet long enough to propel himself off into the mountain brush. I don’t know how, but I was quicker. My arm shot out in his direction, and my hand grasped at what I thought was already air. I was shocked to feel his body facing away from me in my grasp, but not nearly as I was when he started stabbing my hand. I’d never kept my cool as I did in that moment. I trembled with pain as I reached for my torch, turned it on, and aimed the light beam at him. In my effort to keep the circumference of my grip around him the same despite the pain, I was only holding him firmly with my thumb and forefinger. The rest of my digits were tense, but loose, and I caught a clear glimpse of his backside. His ass.
I inhaled sharply, pain nearly forgotten as I stared at one of the most perfect ass cheeks I’d ever seen. It flexed delightfully as he kept stabbing me. I was pretty sure I’d need stitches and a new hand by the time he was done with me, but in the meantime his ass. In the meantime his crack showing briefly in the bright light as his little legs kicked. In the meantime there was something happening between my legs. He was stabbing me there too.
“Stop!” I ordered him, and shockingly, he did. He even dropped his little weapon, which I then realized was also his instrument, sharp on one end. He then began to rub my blood all around my tight grip, oiling up an escape route. Now I was really hurt. On the inside. He began to slip from my grasp when I dropped the torch and the beam of light went nuts for a few seconds around us as I grabbed his slick body with my now free hand. I heard his scream of frustration as I said “Hah!” His scream stopped when I gave him a little squeeze, emptying his lungs of air I didn’t want him to have at that particular moment. I brought my hand to the torch’s light and checked him for other weapons.
I missed looking at his ass already, but now I could feel it with the pad of my palm. I flexed my hand and felt the tiny roundness give and take. I noticed he was turning blue, and I relaxed my grip slightly until I observed some color in his cheeks. He came to rather quickly after that, and found me staring at him, my good hand very close to my face, and the light beam only providing peripheral visibility. I didn’t want to aim it directly at his face. What if he was part vampire and melted? What if? So many what ifs. But I never guessed he’d try to head butt my nose. I had been holding him so close my eyes were crossing. I guess I was trying to smell him as well, and that’s how he did it.
I let him keep his dignity and cried “Ouch!” when my nose bounced slightly at the blow from his forehead. He looked slightly dazed, and I had to focus on the unbelievable pain in the webbing of my hand to avoid a startled laugh. He was adorable. I think that’s when I fell in love with him. That’s what I imagine I’d tell everyone if they ever knew he existed, and ever asked, “So how did you two meet?” I’d never say I fell in love with him when I saw his ass. But he knows.
“Would you stop fighting? What’s your problem?”
He gave me a look that I could not see very well, but if looks could write, I’m sure the word “stupid” was scribbled all over my face. He shook his head, and startled mumbling something.
“What? Speak up, please.”
He mumbled again.
“I can’t hear you! Just say it loudly.”
“Can I have my guitar back?” he asked, straight-faced.
I only gasped, and slowly shook my head.
“Do you think I’m stupid? Don’t answer that. You cut my hand to ribbons with your ‘guitar.’ No, you can’t have it back until you prove you can behave like a decent human being!”
Now he looked like I’d pooped on him. “I’m not a ‘human being’,” he said as though he was vomiting the words. “And your hand is still in one piece. Like all humans, you lie.”
“It’s not lying. It’s called exaggeration. Hyperbole.”
“Stop talking and put me down. How dare you grab me like I’m some kind of object?”
“I’m never putting you down,” I responded, surprising myself. I meant it. I was keeping him forever.
He only spit out air in exasperation and said, “Fine, you’ll be dead soon anyway.”
“What? What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Nothing. Go ahead. Keep me ‘forever.’ You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
I snorted. He was an odd one, and not only because of his height. He was probably about four inches tall. I found myself calculating the size of his ass. I must have smiled appropriately, because I could see his eyes narrowing. I cleared my throat.
“I’m going to show you something amazing! Wait here…” I turned off the torch with my injured hand, and winced at the pain it took to push myself close to my telescope on hand and heels. I looked through the lens and gasped. There it was, the comet, beautiful and bright. I moved my head and held my little man in place.
“Look! See, this is a telescope–” Did he snort? Derisively? “–and I use it to view things that are far away. Things in the sky– Hey. You’re trembling! You are impressed, I know. You’re–” And that’s when I realized he was laughing. At me. Laughing so hard he was having trouble breathing. I rolled my eyes, angry and confused. For such a tiny… whatever he was, he packed a lot of discourtesy. Eventually, he calmed down a bit, only releasing the occasional snort. When he sat his tiny hand down on the side of my hand and started petting me as though I was some dumb animal, I had enough.
“Quit that! What are you doing? Why are you laughing at me like that?”
“It doesn’t feel good to be grabbed when you don’t want to, does it?”
I opened my mouth to toss back a clever retort, but my brain had put up an ‘Out To Lunch’ sign, because it left me hanging, speechless and dumb looking. He chuckled briefly, and spoke.
“I’ve already seen that comet several times. I’ve seen all the comets. I’ve felt some of them.”
Now it was my turn to be smart. “That’s not possible. This comet is only visible once every seventy-five years–“
“Seventy-four point nine, to be slightly more precise.”
Now it was my turn to be dumb. Again. I just looked at him. And thought of his ass. Again.
“Fine. So we have an agreement. I’m keeping your forever.”
“Until you drop dead from old age.”
“And you won’t die, because you can’t die.”
He only seemed to nod slightly.
That was nice to know. I figured I’d sit on him during the entire drive home. Just to keep him safe. I have a nice ass too.