The Stone

Carl trudged through the parking lot of the airport, head hung low. He had been kicked off another flight.

"I really wanted to go to Jamaica, too," he grumbled slowly as he lumbered down the street. Carl was a portly man of about four hundred pounds. He felt he was too fat to start exercising, he couldn't afford liposuction, and, worst of all, he had an addiction to food. He had been so excited when he had won a trip to Jamaica, but, as it always did, his weight had gotten in the way of his life.

"Why can't something just fall from the sky to make me lose weight?!" he cried, throwing his hands to the heavens.

"Nothing has to fall," said a young man getting into his car. "You just need to stop eating so many cheeseburgers, you fat ass!" He laughed as he shut his door and sped off towards the freeway. Carl opened his mouth to retaliate, but he had never been a quick thinker, and by the time he thought off something to say, the young man was gone.

Carl continued towards his car, a large suburban. It was the only thing at Mick's Used Car Lot that he could fit into, and even then the steering wheel stuck occasionally inside his fat rolls.

He drove home in silence, too melancholy to listen to the radio. He just knew there would be some song about having fun and dancing with beautiful women, and it would just bring him down more.

He pulled into his drive and parked his mammoth vehicle. He considered closing the garage door and letting the car run. I should just end it all.

Carl's head popped up as he heard a whizzing sound. Before his very eye's, Carl's garage disintegrated as a huge meteorite came rocketing from the sky. This caused Carl to scream like a little girl, one of his many hated character flaws. He scrambled to get out of his car, in case another one came for him. He peered slowly from behind his car, gazing towards the clear blue Midwestern sky. Creeping around his suburban, he walked as though he were stepping around land mines towards his smoldering garage.

"What is that?" he whispered to himself as he peered down at the cracked meteorite. Nestled inside it, completely exposed, was a small, disk shaped stone. He lifted it gently from the wreckage.

It was a greenish grey in color; etched into the top of it was a small dial. The dial consisted of the numbers one through five hundred.

Holding the stone in his right hand, Carl grasped the dial gently and spun it to the number one. Nothing happened. He continued to do this, waiting for something to happen. once he reached the number five, he stopped turning the dial, frustrated.

"Stupid thing doesn't do anything," he grumbled, preparing to chuck the rock. However, upon looking at his hands, he saw the contrast he had prayed for. His right hand now looked less beefy than his left. "Maybe...," he said softly, switching the stone to his other hand.

Almost instantaneously, his left had grew leaner until it matched the size of his right.

"It's a weight losing machine!" he squealed. He quickly turned the nob on the stone until it was at one hundred. He shoved it towards his protruding stomach, which shrank quickly down to just three hundred pounds.

"I feel so good! I can't believe this. I finally hit my lucky break," he yelled, jumping up and down, his remaining fat still jiggling like jello in an earthquake. "Maybe I can make the next flight to Jamaica!" He jumped into his car, pocketing the stone, and scooted up closer to the steering wheel than he had been in years.

"I don't have to stretch to reach the peddles anymore!" he announced to no one in particular, his voice filled with glee.

As he drove, however, his steering wheel grew closer and closer to him, as if his car was shrinking. He paid no attention to it, but continued driving, happy as he was to finally be on his vacation of a lifetime.

He parked in a spot farther out then he normally would have. "I feel so good, I could run to Jamaica."

However, when he tried to get out of the car, he was stuck. Must have scooted up to close. Nothing my little rock buddy can't solve. He pulled the stone out of his pocket and rubbed it all over him again until he was able to wiggle his way out of his car.

As he walked up to the terminal, he noticed many people were staring at him. They probably just jealous of how good I look. He strutted like a Chippendale's model towards the ticket counter, ready for his long awaited prize.

"One ticket to Jamaica," he announced to the ticket lady.

"Sir, I thought I told you already," the ticket lady began. "You're too big to be on our flight. You would have to buy a whole row of seats the way you are."

"What are you talking about?" Carl asked, looking down at himself. "I'm only three hundred pounds."

The ticket lady snorted, but held in her laughter. "Are you sure about that?" she asked. "Have you gotten on a scale lately?"

Carl's mouth dropped open, stunned. He raced to the airport bathroom and looked in the mirror. He was not only back to his old weight, but it appeared as though he had gained another hundred pounds.

"That can't be right," he huffed as he retrieved the stone from his pocket; a difficult process now that his clothes were three sizes too small. "I'll show them," He mumbled turning the nob all the way up to five hundred. "I'll show them who can't get on that flight."

He walked out of the men's room, rubbing himself vigorously with the stone. People continued to stare, only now many of them were gawking. Who's skinny now? He walked with a new bounce in his step as he felt his weight rapidly dropping.

He stormed up to the ticket lady, who screamed in terror. "I'd like my ticket please," he barked at her.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" she screamed, her voice an octave higher than the last time he had spoken to her.

"Yea, it's me. The person who was bigger than a whale. How do you like that, you bitch!?" he yelled angrily. He noticed that his knees had begun to shake.

"Oh my god! Sir, we have to get you to a doctor. Now!"

Carl's anger faded quickly. He looked down at his hands. He screamed, terrified. His hands were only skin stretched over bone now. The same went for his legs, feet, and midsection. Then, his eyes caught sight of something worse. His hands had begun to balloon to a tremendous size, his skin reaching a breaking point and splitting as he continued to grow and grow.

"Maybe I wasn't so lucky after all," he murmured, his leg giving out as he went down and his world went black.