Chapter #8Freedom, Food, and Some Explanations by: Icarus   You're stuck, suffering in the confines of her orange knee-high soccer sock for what you can only try to guess was about an hour. If you're right, that's a little over an hour and a half where all the air you've breathed has been permeated by the stench of your little sister's sweaty post-practice feet. You miss fresh air. You miss how it smelled like nothing, or at least nothing to you.
You could try to say you've grown used to the smell somewhat, but it doesn't mean as much as you'd hoped it would. You'd imagined getting used to the smell would mean you wouldn't notice it anymore. This is unfortunately far from the case. The air still reeks of feet, the only difference is now it burns your nostrils a lot less. It's still unbearably noticeable.
At this point, you begin to really doubt coming to Samantha for help. Even if somehow she could regrow you in the next twenty minutes, you're not sure it was worth the entire hour and a half of breathing air permeated by the smell of her feet, or exhausting your whole body just to give her a simple foot rub.
Now you can hear the distant, soft thuds coming this way. You hear the door creak open, and then shut. And then a light giggle as your whole world shakes and gets jostled around. Gravity flips very quickly on you, and you find yourself tumbling down the length of the damp orange sock.
Without much ado, you plop into your sister's warm palm, her grinning face holding you at about chin level. You graciously take deep breaths, enjoying the fresh air as Samantha tosses her sock aside. Oh how you missed the smell of literally anything else.
Samantha, whose hair is still slightly damp and in a change of clothes, walks you over to her bed. She plops down and deposits you on her nightstand. Her other hand comes over and drops a brown chunk next to you. It's about the size of your head. And it looks like...meat? You look down at it and back up to your sister's face.
She's moved her face so it's about thirty feet (your scale) away from you. Which is to say, her giant face is pretty close. "It's steak," she says, with a smile. Oh. Well, you like steak. You pick it up and begin to gnaw on it. Eating a giant chunk of steak which is only a teensy portion of a much, much more giant steak is harder than you ever would have suspected. But you manage.
As you're hungrily gnawing on your hunk of steak, Samantha speaks to you, her voice very loud this close up, even though she's talking at a normal volume.
"So Nick...I've kinda calmed down about the whole ditching practice thing with me...the foot rub really helped with that, thank you...anyway, wanna tell me what's going on? How'd this happen? And..." she pauses and giggles for a moment, "why do you like giant stinky feet so much?"
You groan.
Samantha leans in close and turns her ear towards you. You have to speak up for her to hear you properly, but you don't need to yell too loudly. Just a slightly raised voice.
1. You explain what you think is the cause, which is the messed up experiment you and some friends tried later. And you also take time to explain the misunderstanding, and how you most certainly do not like her feet at all. She believes you.
2. Same as before, but she thinks you're just trying to cover up for yourself because you're totally embarrassed about your love for her stinky feet. She's willing to bargain with you about how much time you have to spend with her feet.
3. Actually, you're pretty pissed about being stuck in her sweaty sock for an hour. You tell her off for torturing you. She is hurt, and then angry. After all, from her perspective, she thought she was being nice. Even though she also found it really, really funny.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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