This choice: A pretty 17 year old washing her car. • Go Back...Chapter #3waxing in style by: Unknown The boys? Ick - I am so not gay.
My mother? No way - that is SO bogus.
The girl across the street? Now that has promise. What was her name? Oh yeah, Christie.
You quickly dash back inside and up the stairs to your room. If this works, this will be an all day adventure - so you better change into something more suitable now. Tossing the gun on the bed, you scare your cat. She hisses and jumps to the floor as the toy crashes to the bed next to her. Brandon simply rolls over and ignores the whole event.
You, on the other hand pay no attention. You slip on a real shirt, pull on fresh socks and your trusty pair of doc martins, grab your leather bomber jacket off the back of your chair, and scoop the Flash Gordon looking device from where it fell. Brendan stirs ever so slightly.
Hmmm, a test subject. Flicking the switch to shrink, you zap the sleeping form. Within seconds, your friend is half an inch tall - and totally unaware that anything has happened to him. "Cool. It works," you say, carefully stepping around him and out the door.
Seconds after your departure, Brendan is quickly turned into meow mix cat chow by your disturbed feline.
You carefully stroll out the door. The hot morning sun beats down on the street. Christie is still across the street, applying wax to her cherry red mustang. She blissfully pampers the vintage muscle car, unaware of your casual approach to her side of the walk.
The smell of turtle wax hits your nose, strong and pungent as you slip into the bushes. She is wearing mid thigh cut offs, a loose flowing dark t-shirt, a couple of baubles and shiny things. Medium height - and soon to be an extra large, shoulder length blond hair - and glasses. Not the unattractive Clark Kent style, but a flattering wire frame job. Her Walkman keeps her totally in the dark to your approach and eavesdropping.
Remembering to set the blaster back to the enlarge setting, you carefully take aim. Holding your breath, you squeeze the trigger.
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