"Wee the People"

Ron Foley went about his morning routine, oblivious that today, his existence would be upended. He made himself some cereal and opened the silverware drawer, reaching for a spoon. To his shock, the spoon came to his hand. He looked down at it, only to see something impossible. Two men, each perhaps two inches tall, were lifting it. Mr. Foley screamed.
"Hello, neighbor," one of them piped up, his voice quiet but understandable, his accent strange but unplaceable. Instinctually, Ron swiped at them, sending them squealing through the air and onto the kitchen floor. He ran to the phone, then balked. What could I tell anyone that they'd believe? The police. They'll have to do something.
The phone went dead. He heard a cutting sound. Looking at the cord, he saw a tiny man sawing it. Ron prepared his foot to stomp him, but the fingerling screamed and threw up his hands in a way too pitiful for him to ignore. Instead, he grabbed the creature and held it up to his face.
"What are you? Where did you come from?" he demanded, shaking the little house denizen.
"I'm the mayor of the Wee Folk!" he screamed, "Please don't hurt me!"
"Explain everything," Ron barked.
"Please, take me to the guest room," said the diminutive man who called himself mayor.
The full-grown man weakened his grasp on the mayor and did as he was bidden, for the sake of fulfilling his own curiosity.
In the guest room was a tiny village, made up of odds and ends. All the things Ron suspected missing were to be found in little pieces, forming makeshift dwellings and decorations. Mostly made up of cardboard, with used pieces of gum holding everything together.
"Please, put me down!" said the little mayor. Ron let him down.
"Start explaining," the six-foot-tall man said, prodding the fingerling's chest with his index finger.
"We are the Wee Folk," he explained, "We have lived in your house, in secret, for a very long time. We appreciate the shelter that you have given us. But now we feel the need, for the sake of freedom and change and love, that we can no longer exist under your rules. We demand independence!"
A few other Wee Folk came out of their jury-rigged houses to investigate.
"Kweeko, come here," the mayor said. The man who was apparently Kweeko did. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what had once been a tag on a shoe. He stretched it out so as to give Ron a better look. On it was an something in English.
"We the people," said the mayor, "in order to form a more perfect union..."
"Save it," said Ron, "If you think I'm letting you things stay here, you've got another thing coming. I'll allow you one night. One night, and then maybe I'll wake up from this nightmare. You leave at seven o'clock A.M. No later."
"You're a tyrant, Mr. Foley!" shouted Kweeko. Ron kicked him, launching him into the wall. People screamed. He left for work, trying but failing to put the whole thing out of his mind. When he left, the Wee Folk started a town meeting.
"He needs to be overthrown," said a tiny woman.
"Kings should be a thing of the past," said a tiny man.
"Yes, yes," said the mayor, "But he must be dealt with tactfully. Perhaps we can deploy the soldiers into his bedroom as he sleeps."
And so they chattered throughout the night.
Ron awoke the next morning, and remembered his "dream" with a trace of annoyance. Oh, well. No use overthinking it. He yawned and stretched his arms in bed, then put on his slippers on like he did every morning. He sauntered over to the stairway that led into his kitchen.
A wire stretching from wall to wall, exactly two inches above the landing, tripped him. Ron shouted in vain as he tumbled down the hard steps. He landed at the bottom of the stairs, his form twisted violently.
A drove of tiny people came to his side.
"We did it! We killed the tyrant!"
"The Wee Folk live on!"
"Power to the people!"
"Down with Ron the Ruthless!"
Within a day, the human was stripped of all his clothes. The mayor thought it curious that Ron wore a shirt with a square symbol on it. It had red and white stripes, and the corner was a blue field with white stars. On his order, they cut out the cloth symbol and hung it from a fishing pole. It was to be the flag of the United States of Wee Land.