Lemuel woke up by the sun burning his skin. Slowly his eyes were adapting to the bright light. He wanted to rub them, but his arms was stuck. His head hurt, and couldn’t remember shit from last night.
He looked down. Lifting his head something was tied to his hair as well. He saw little ropes going over his body, tied to little poles on the ground.
What the hell is going on here? He said out loud. Hey! Is there anybody there? Help me!
He was lying outside, on something that looked like a beach. What had he been doing last night?
It’s awake! It’s awake! He heard tiny little voices. They were cheering with excitement.
Who’s there? He said. Help me, I’m stuck!
Something was set up against his arm. He looked down as much as he could. It was a ladder. A tiny little man came climbing up.
Howdy, Giant! He said. You’re big!
Who are you? Said Lemuel. Where am I?
The question is not where you are, monster man. It’s what you are. And you, my giant, are a monster. And monsters must die.
He walked a couple of rounds on his chest. There were others coming up the ladder as well.
Let me loose! Said Lemuel. Why have you… Hey, what are you doing?
The other creatures was pouring liquid out of cans on his chest. It smelled like gasoline.
Stop that, stop that! Mocked the little man as another came over to him with a torch, gave it to him.
Monster from hell, godless giant! You are about to meet your maker, whoever he is.
The other little men ran down the latter, only the one with the the torch remained. Oh, Lord, he said. We are giving you this horrible creature you cannot have created, and therefore must die. Behold the flames that will devour it!
Lemuel was getting very, very uncomfortable. Stop it! Stop!
The little man threw the torch down on Lemuel’s chest. It immediately caught fire. The little man’s shoes as well, they were wet of gasoline. Ouch, ouch, ouch, he said, running around. He jumped down on one side. Lemuel did not hear the noise of little bones breaking and a scream of pain when he hit the ground, because he was screaming himself. His chest was on fire, and it hurt. A lot.
Aaaahhh!! Put it out! Put it out! Help meeee!!!
The little men started singing a song, seemingly to their god or whatever they were worshipping.
Lemuel was twisting and pulling. Suddenly one of his arms was free. The other one, too. The fire had burned the ropes off.
He rolled himself over on his chest to put out the fire. The little men holding their ceremony tried to run away, but he was too big, the distance too long. Hundreds got crushed and burned under his flaming chest. He ripped off the rest of the ropes.
Some of the remaining little men were running away. Others tried to help the injured ones on the ground. The rest hid in a little church they had built of sand.
He gave the church a good kick. It crumbled, as sand castles so easily does. The little creatures seemed to have forgotten their dead and injured. the ones running away had forgotten their fear. All of them started rebuilding their little temple.
He seemed to be just outside of town. He really just wanted to get home as soon as possible.
Stupid little fanatics, he said as he walked away. This was the worst hangover ever.