You let out a tiny little yelp as you lose your grip and enter into a freefall, flicked aside by a slight, near-unconscious movement of the giantess. For a brief moment your body ascends up as it hurtles forward, but gravity soon corrects that, causing you to arc downwards in a plummet towards the countertop. It is a fall several times your body height onto a firm surface. You can only hope your tiny body is capable of surviving it.
You find out soon enough, as you strike the hard surface of the countertop with a painful thwack, rebound off of it, then begin your descent anew, eventually crashing into a small mountain of dirt, a plume of it erupting into the air around you as your body is lodged face-first and waist-deep into the soil.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The woman's chance motions cause the dirt around you to quiver violently. Before you can free your head from the sediment, a landslide cascades over you, trapping your body up to its ankles in the soil. You begin to struggle to free yourself from this world of darkness, the muffled sounds of ocean waves accompanied by the sounds of the woman handing her some sort of treat to the customer. Soon the giant leaves, and the sounds of her interaction with the giant give way to a different set of sounds entirely: the woman playing what seems to be a gacha game on her phone. Your heart pounds as you struggle to make it out of this dirt before the lady treads your life is claimed either by suffocation or the trampling sandaled feet of the unaware woman.
Running low on air, you find yourself forced to inhale and hope that you don't choke upon the soil. Thankfully, you manage to gulp down a mouthful half of air and half of a large granule of dirt. While you're very much thankful for the air, you can't help but notice that the dirt does not at all taste like one might expert dirt to taste. No...it tastes sweet. Sweet and edible, in fact. Surprised, you pause your escape attempt and sample the dirt once more. Your senses weren't playing tricks on you. You appear to be in a mountain not of dirt, but some sort of chocolaty powder.
A few moments of exertion later, and you manage to free yourself from the mountain of 'dirt.' Surveying your surroundings, you find that you are at the base of a dune of crushed oreo crumbs, in the middle of a desert sized dessert topping tub. You take a moment to take in the sights around you before turning your attention up towards the worker at the stand, a latina woman in her mid 20s, clad in a blue tanktop with a shark mascot adorning it. She remains oblivious to your presence, instead focusing herself entirely upon her phone during the lull in customer traffic. You survey your surroundings and notice a fortuitous dune of oreo crumbs stacked right near the edge of the metal trough you're stuck in. As nice as it would be to stay here and feast on the snack food, you can't neglect the you could wind up as an ice cream topping yourself!
You scramble towards the dune of crumbs, the uneven terrain of the oreo trough slowing your progress. As you make your way along the surface, you realize that the sounds of the woman's gacha game have died down, yet no customer has arrived as of yet. Turning your attention up to her face, you see that she is surveying the various tubs of toppings...and soon enough, her eyes turn upon you. You feel a surge of tension as the woman peers down at your tiny form. "Huh..."She muses before bringing a serving spoon down and quickly scooping you up in it. The mighty snack-stand waitress proceeds to shake the spoon around, a blank expression on her face as she subjects you to a discombobulating, almost torturous earthquake with a few casual twitches of her hand.
Is she trying to kill you? You think that, for a moment, but find it unlikely. If she thought you were a bug she'd likely just fling you away, send a biblical deluge of water down upon you, or crush you flat with a paper towel. No, she appears to be doing this to examine you. Looking over your body, you realize that you're practically covered in a thin layer of oreo crumbs...and with every shake, the woman manages to knock a few of them off. Eventually, she makes her mind. "Eh. Nothing but a Wimp." She says. Could it be? Has she realized that you're a tiny human being? If so, you very much take offense to being called a 'wimp...'but the wider implications of her casual indifference leave you stunned and fearful. You hesitate, lying in place, unsure if you should try to communicate with her.
After a few seconds, the woman shifts her position, moving the spoon several relative meters over before turning it onto its side and carefully sending you tumbling down again towards a field of brilliant colors. You land upon a hard, almost rock-like surface...and this time around, there's no mistaking it for dirt. But what on earth is it? Surveying your surroundings, you find that you appear to be in a quarry of hard, colorful candy-pieces, each of which are about the size of your body. You suppose you can see why the woman sorted you here. With your body obscured partly by dirt, one glance at your brightly colored shirt was enough for her to mistake you as a hard piece of candy...but what sort?
And then it hits you. When she called you a 'wimp' she wasn't referring to you as a weakling. She was referring to you as a 'Wimp.' That is, a legally distinct (and fictitious) crunchy mascot-shaped sour candy pieces. It takes you a moment to process the implications. A human saw you...scrutinized you, and determined that you were in fact nothing but a Wimp. A trademarked brand of candy. You've seen a few Wimps commercials back in the 90s. Most of them focused on over-eager kids happily devouring the cute but pathetic mascots. And that is what the woman thinks of you? You would be upset at her, were it not for the fact that her assessment of you isn't exactly wrong. A lone bug that can't avoid capture and can't make itself out of a simple candy trough isn't exactly the apex of insect evolution.
You survey your surroundings, looking to get out of this humiliating position, but find that there is no convenient mountain near the corner for you to climb. The surface of the pile of Wimps is nearly flat, and although the trough of candy is nearly full, it is still surrounded by multiple body-heights worth of a smooth metal surface. You're trapped. You hop up and down and shout to gain the woman's attention, but her attention is already diverted back to her gacha game, eventually shifting over to youtube videos, the sounds drowning out your voice.
You shout out until you can shout no more, then simply give up and sit down upon a cluster of Wimps, powerless but to wait for the videos to quiet down. Unfortunately, the woman only silences her phone when she spies a customer approaching. You hear a frightful cacophony as a trio of first grade girls in swimsuits charge the stand and, in their childish, shrill voices begin to beg for treats. One of them, a girl of asian complexion, is clad in a purple bathing suit with a rainbow decoration and is waving a twenty dollar bill handed over to her by her generous father. The other two are black and white, respectively, stand to her sides. All three girls are skipping in place eagerly.
"Hello hello mis ma'am" "I want some ice cream!" "I want this I want this and this!""
The girls continue on, speaking over one another in a near deafening wall of sound. Visions of mythological harpies squabbling over who gets to eat their human captive fill your mind, only these girls are at once far more(to you) and far less(to anyone else) formidable than any harpy ever would be.
The woman calms them down, instilling order into the chaos
"Now hold on , girls. The ice cream isn't going anywhere. Let's do this one at a time."
"OK....fine. I'm going fir..." "What about me?" "MY daddy is paying for this." "Ok FINE. You go first..."
"Ok! Would you like yours in a cup, a cone, or a waffle cup?"
"Waffle cup..."
"OK. What flavor?"
"Um....cheesecake."
"And what would you like on it?"
Your heart freezes as you realize you're on the menu and you have no way off of it. You feel an unexpected surge of adrenaline as you gaze up at the trio of girls, focusing on the one who is about to pick her toppings. Her finger glides in the air. "I'd like this, and this, aaaand..." Her finger briefly freezes over your container, one dip away from ordering you as food, before shifting her finger to the left and pointing for something else. You calm down for a moment, before realizing two other girls await!
As the girl is served her strawberry, peanuts, and M&M topped ice cream, you hear another voice from behind the girls. Standing as tall as you can atop one of the shallow mounds of Wimps, you make out a woman in her 40s, clad in a bikini, a toddler of uncertain gender in her embrace. "Mommy's gonna get you some ice cream! Aren't you so excited?" Great.. Two more customers. Now you have to worry about four passes from potential customers before even getting a breather!
The sound of the second of the trio of girls picking out her meal snaps quickly you back into reality. Like her friend, she chooses a waffle cup and vanilla ice cream...now for the toppings....
"I'd like some gummy worms, some M&Ms and...hey what are those?" "These? They're Wimps! They're little sour candy people." "Ooh! I'd like some wimps, too! "Alright! That'll be it? "YEP!"
And that's all it takes for the girl to call the woman's serving spoon down towards you. She brings it down, ready to deliver a wimp into a hungering girl's maw. You're in exactly the same predicament as those silly cartoon candy mascots, but this is no cartoon. Should you get served up, your body will be shoved into a mountain of freezing ice cream and likely crunched into a paste between this girl's teeth!
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