You are dislodged and abandoned, the harsh surface of the sand cutting into you almost as much as the sun overhead.
Great. Now you're never gonna be accepted into the fraternity. Maybe you won't even be returned to regular size!
No, thinking like that will do no good. If anyone can get out of a scrape like this, it's you. You can talk your way out of this as you've talked your way out of everything else that's gone wrong in your life.
All you have to do is find someone willing to listen to a three-inch tall man.
You cast your gaze about and see that the nearest people are the mountainous forms of a mother and daughter, blotting out the sun and casting deep shadows as the former rubs sunscreen into the skin of the latter.
You watch the slow motions of the older giantess, who none-the less looks rather young to be mother to the preteen sitting before her on the spread beach towel.
Even the twelve year-old dwarfs you utterly, though. Dressed in a one-piece yellow bathing suit, her hands clasped around her knees as she sits, her long brown hair looks as coarse as rope as it hangs down over her face. Each of those hands, each of those feet, could crush you utterly were it applied to your fragile form.
The mother is even bigger, though. Her hands work slowly into the back and neck of her daughter, motions that prove rather sensuous for someone who, to you, has more in common with the Statue of Liberty than a woman capable of showing you love. She wears a similar bathing costume, and her legs are crossed under her, her building-sized calves protruding outward toward you.
This could be the place to start. Or, you could wander away into the raggedy clumps of graa beyond the pair, to try and find your way back to civilisation; the bird can't have gone far, and the sorority should be easy to locate.
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