You turn from the immense insect's twitching mandibles and limp toward the white ship. While there's a distinct possibility the aliens inside will be unfriendly, you reason that your chances are far worse with the eleph-ants.
You don't get far before you hear a deafening slurping noise behind you, and, against your instincts, you look back, seeing a massive, glistening red wall sweeping toward you, the boulder-size cookie crumb and its ant-outrage glued to the surface. The strange crimson object then rises into the air, but not before it also whisks away the ant that had, seconds before, been studying you from only a few dozen feet away.
As you gaze up, you are shocked by what you find, for that massive thing had only been a tongue, which retreats into the mouth of what looks like a Great Dane--by far the greatest Dane you've ever seen. If you had to guess, you would say its muscular body, covered in sleek black fur, reaches an altitude of no less than a mile and a half tall at its shoulders, and its head proudly rises higher yet.
After beholding this behemoth, you are surprisingly unsurprised to see that, attached to a collar that would have encircled a city block back home, there is a leash being clutched at the other end by a huge hand. Following the length of the arm to the person's torso, you can make out the shape of two breasts. If you hadn't been able to see the bulges beneath the spandex tank top that far in the air, though, you could have also inferred the dog owner's sex from the lack of any major bulge beneath the tight shorts made of the same material. Her face soars too high in the heavens for you to get a good look at it. The word "Brobdingnagian" comes to mind, but that doesn't do her justice. You weren't even the size of a Lilliputian in Brobdingnag; you were closer to the scale of a Lilliputian mouse in Brobdingnag. The person casting you into shadow is, quite literally, as tall as a mountain. She could have stood at the base of Olympus and still stared down her nose at the gods at its apex.
As if you had audibly asked for a better look--and she could actually hear your request--she kneels and leans forward, a pony tail of brown hair slipping over her shoulder and eyes looking toward the ground not far from where you stand, their blue irises as big as swimming pools. It turns out she has to retie her sneaker, which you now realize is the so-called "ship" that pulverized your ship into oblivion! As you consider her attire, you come to the conclusion that she is out running with her dog, and what you had mistake as a landing strip for massive ships is nothing more than a recreational pathway, a source of enjoyment and relaxation to this race of giants and their pets but a deadly place for you and the world's insects. This notion is only solidified as someone else zooms by on inline skates at what seems close to the speed of light, creating a sound like the roar of a thousand freight trains, and shortly afterward, a family pedals by on bikes. Though slow by comparison, even the young girl steering a shaky course with training wheels larger than the London Eye would have shattered Earth's land speed record.
As miniscule as you are, the gigantic jogger is looking at her shoe, and you're standing right next to it. You loathe asking the weaker sex for assistance, but the dangers on this pathway are too many to count, and she may be your best hope to avoid suffering a fate unbefitting of someone as handsome as yourself. Will you try to get her attention?
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