Nick uncovers his eyes. The dim light slowly forces his eyes to adjust. But his nose can not.
It smells horrible, thinks Eric. Smells like sweaty feet...football quarterback jock clete-wearing for hours sweaty feet!
And it's all around him. Above him Rob's smelly feet tower like fleshy skyscrapers. From his position, Nick can see how insignificant he is to the giant jock. To his left rests Rob's second toe, possibly larger than several trailers compared to the tiny man. To his right stands the even bigger (and aptly named) big toe! Above him, the sandal strap runs like a leather St. Louis arch to distances unfathomable. In front of him, Nick sees some peeling of skin, possibly a minor case of athlete's foot (no surprise there).
Nick realizes that now in comparison to the hardheaded jock that has always towered over him, he is nothing.
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