You start walking towards the backdoor, trekking through the rough terrain of what was once smooth cement is now a jagged landscape that threatens to turn your ankle with each step. You think about approaching the giant man towering above to your right, you think you could probably grab onto his shoelace that is touching the ground or even climb up the worn soles of his shoes. As you start to walk towards him, you see an ant bigger than you scurrying around his foot. John is still paying attention to the grill when you shifts his foot by lightly picking it up and dropping it. The ant is obliviously crushed into paste and you realize that it could just as easily be you, so you abort your mission and go with the original plan. The backdoor is open and you continue towards it.
As you get closer to the door, you come to the painful realization that everything may be for naught. The ledge in front of the sliding door is an unclimbable cliff of metal. Despite the door being wide open, you are stopped in your tracks, but not before you watch the door get even bigger as you shrink again! A nearby cigarette butt is like a toppled tower. The soft breeze outside is a howling gale that threatens to lift you off the ground. At least you aren't quite as small as the pollen and insect feces that shower down from above like a constant hail.
You try to contemplate what to do now. Do you go back to John and just try to see if there is an opportunity to climb? Do you just go with another idea to find another entrance? Would you even have enough time at this point? You were really banking on this working and now so much time is wasted that you are really small. So small that you see a semi-truck sized ant approaching at cheetah speed from the distance. You bolt as fast as you can while you have a head start but it and several other ants are built for speed in this intense gravity with six legs compared to your tired two. The ants see you as prey and your decision to flee has validated your role as such. Three ants are closing on you fast with their shadows hovering over you.
You scream in shrilling pain as mandibles tear into your right and left thighs and your torso and the ants rip you into three different pieces so effortlessly that even their brains are confused about how an insect can have zero exoskeleton and be so fragile. You are still screaming in bloody murder while in the grasp on the ant that grabbed your torso, until another shadow covers you and all the ants.
BOOM!
Just seconds earlier, Dianne, your friend's mom walked outside to get some paper plates and cups outside on the table while her husband grills. Her barefeet pound onto the warm cement with bits of gravel and debris sticking to her soles as she sets up the table and walks back inside. As she lifts her feet over the ledge in front of the backdoor, if one saw her dirty soles as she walked up, they would make out the pancaked carcasses of three ants and red speck that suddenly disappears.
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