First of all, I owe a huge apology to the Jinks Family, whose house I stepped on some time ago. Like any growing adolescent, I was having a little trouble adjusting to my body’s rapid changes, and was a bit clumsy. Oh, yes, and to the family of Heinrich Nederlander, who’s small airplane I destroyed, along with Heinrich, two weeks ago. It was just a reflexive movement on my part, like swatting at a pesky mosquito would be, for those of a more normal size.
It all began when I was a small child, or, to be more accurate, a large one. I was a fairly normal-sized baby, but soon after my birth, I began growing at a faster rate than was usual for a child my age. At first, my parents and their friends were only mildly concerned. I seemed a bit tall. People would ruffle my hair and say “What a fine, big boy you are!” and words to that effect. By the time I was six, however, I was taller than my parents, who are average-sized people, by a full 12 inches. Mum and Pop became alarmed and took me to specialist after specialist, but none of the doctors could explain what was going on with me. I endured many physical exams and tests. They all showed my body to be healthy and robust in the extreme. All my organs seemed to be growing along in proper proportion to the rest of my body. The docs eventually just had to give up on any explanation of my condition. I grew up. And up, and up, eventually out-growing all my clothes and any house or building which I was moved into to accommodate a person or object of my size. I consumed tremendous amounts of food and was bankrupting my parents. I had to learn not to speak in what was for me a normal tone of voice. When I spoke that way, I could burst eardrums and cause small buildings and old people to fall down. Dogs would hide and children would cry when I said “Hello” or “Thank you”. I learned early on that I needed to whisper in order to communicate with anyone. Even then, I had to avert my face when I spoke in order not to blow off hats or invert umbrellas with my big breath. By the time I was sixteen, I towered over most large buildings in town. I could see that I was also becoming a big embarrassment to all concerned. Their embarrassment was increased due to the fact that my expanding body reduced any clothing, which was made especially for me, to rags within a few days, and I was often naked as a result. I hit upon the idea of wrapping my large body in inexpensive blue plastic tarps held together with duct-tape, which items were provided for a while without cost by the local Home Depot as a gesture of community good will. This arrangement ended, however, as my size increased and the demands of my body quickly outgrew the store’s supply. Since that time, I’ve been naked, except for an ever-expanding loincloth I have fashioned from old blankets and bedsheets for purposes of modesty.
As much as they loved me, I could tell that my parents and the townspeople were relieved when I (Rather too loudly) announced that I was leaving home to travel the world. Of course, I had no choice but to move on, having reached a size which made it impossible for me to inhabit my tiny home-town without part of me spilling over to adjacent municipalities. Owing to my size, I found traveling quite easy, as long as I watched my step, and could move swiftly along with the sun and the seasons, in order to stay warm.
Lately, the demands made by my monstrous appetite and concerns for public safety have turned people against me. For the last month or so, I’ve been traveling the world, snacking on cows and eating small forests as I go. People have fired weapons at me, which so far have been only physically irritating and not lethal. I am, however, deeply hurt that they bear me such malice. I know as I continue to grow and wreak unintentional havoc on the world, it’s inevitable that people’s anger and their retaliation will increase. My growth continues to out-pace, at least for the time being, their ability to hurt me, but I imagine in time, they might throw bigger things at me, possibly even nuclear weapons. They’ve already tried biological agents, and as a result, I have a very irritating rash on one ankle. I have other problems, though. I’m running out of cows and forests to eat, for one thing. Also, at my current rate of expansion, my head, already in the clouds, could soon be in the upper reaches of Earth’s atmosphere, where it would no doubt be constantly pelted by man-made satellites and space-junk. I couldn’t breathe up there, of course. I would have to start crawling to get around, which would make me an even bigger target for the many outraged farmers and environmental activists I’ve accidentally alienated.
I hope my story ends more happily, though. I have noticed a slight slow-down in my growth-rate lately, which may signal an eventual stop or even a reversal of the phenomenon that plagues me, and by extension, the world at large. In the end, I may go down in history as a unifying force, having become an unwilling common enemy to the small people of Earth, who have united against me, forgetting for a while their petty squabbles with one another.
Time will tell what becomes of me. In case the worst happens, though, I want to stress that I never wanted to hurt anybody. I hope the forests will grow back. I’m sure you can get more cows. With any luck, I will somehow return to my normal size again and I can look back on all this and laugh. Just a small laugh, though. I will no doubt have had enough of things big.