I was sitting on the curb poking at ants with my shoe when I got the package. It had some momentum to it. The postman threw it from his car as he drove by at full speed. He knows not to come to my door anymore. It hit me in the face pretty hard and for a few seconds, I saw my great-grandfather, surrounded by stars in a field of blackness. He looked disappointed with me. My dad must've learned that from him.

As the visions faded and my sight returned, I picked myself up. When you live life like I do, it's important to be able to recover quickly. You need to be able to run. Which I did, package in hand, back inside. The outdoors was an unwelcoming place. Those ants I'd been poking had looked a little too excited about swarming.

Sweeping off the pile of crumbs and small rodents on my kitchen table, I set down the heavy cardboard box, my arms aching. I don't know how I got to be so out of shape. I mean, I do no physical activity, that should leave me in a state of homeostasis. By rights, I should be as fit as an eight-year-old. Anyway, gnawing at a corner soon left me with an opened box and a mouthful of cardboard. I spat the soggy mulch onto the floor, pausing to consider the multitude of many-legged things that swept in to investigate the new piece of their filthy kingdom before returning my attention to the opened package.

Eagerly I inhaled the fragrant aroma that battled for control of my senses against the fetid smell of decay native to the room. It was provocative scent, a rich blend of innovation, children's dreams, and the sweat of an obese Italian man. Inside the box lay a motley collection of items, swimming among clutch of packing peanuts. A red flower. A golden brick. A glowing star. A mushroom. Excitement rippled through me. I was shaking, but that was probably because I was hurting for a sugar fix.

After chugging through a doughnut smoothie, I plunged my sticky fingers into the box, scrambling, and came up with up with the brick. It gleamed in the light as I turned it, taking in it's fine crafting, unsure of its purpose. Reverence quickly dissipating, I concluded my visual examination and, hungry for results, applied the techniques that had proven so useful opening the package. Biting down on the hard metal soon proved ineffectual, if "ineffectual" means "painful like a donkey kick to the jaw." I've never been good with words.



The next stage of my inspection was more productive. In a fit of inspiration and rage, I hurled the brick across the room where it crashed into and spectacularly shattered a lamp. Lying amidst the shimmering powder of the former furnishing, the brick rocked gently with the force of the impact. Then, with offputtingly less gentleness, the brick exploded.

As the dust settled and my senses returned, I took a moment to bitterly curse my past acts of negligence and belligerence, all of which had left me bereft of companions behind which I might've taken cover. While I reflected on the impact-absorbing qualities of women and children, a part of me began to come to terms with the small green dinosaur now sitting in the middle of the room.

We looked at each other, he with curiosity, me with a panic bordering on hysteria. Before I could take a step towards the bullwhip I keep in the fridge for such occasions, the bipedal lizard thrust out with its nimble tongue, latching onto the second of my lamps and dragging it into its gullet. Not a good day for my decor. With a wriggle of its pelvis, the monster forcibly pooped out a single, flawless egg. The border into hysteria had been crossed.

Unmistakably aware of the shaky position in which I now found myself, I surveyed the room, giving thought to the actions available to me. While thoroughly soiling my pants was a prime candidate, my eyes fixed on the saddle-like shell adorning its back. If I could only get myself astride the beast, maybe I could gain control of the situation. I could even turn this in my favour. Who could describe the power I might wield with the egg-maker at my command? It could even make up for the loss of my two favourite lamps. Now firmly committed to breaking this saurian bronco, I readied myself.

With steely nerve, I lunged.

The lizard squealed as I crashed headlong into its side and we tumbled to the ground in a heap. In a roil of flailing limbs and poorly aimed fists we struggled to right ourselves. It was the first to its feet. All I could do was watch dazedly as it bolted for the opened door with a parting kick to my ribs. Putting aside any thoughts of recapturing it while I caught my breath, I wondered about the ramifications of the past few minutes. I had brought a dino-monster into the world, fought it to submission, then accidentally loosed it on an unsuspecting world. Ennui settled in. I missed the scaly beast already.



My reverie was broken by a woman's scream. It carried on for a second or so until it was cut off by the unmistakable sound of small green dinosaur swallowing a distressed human being, passing them through its body, and issuing forth a man-sized egg. Grinning and commending myself for handling the situation with such fortitude, I picked myself up, shook off the worst of the dirt and blood, and stumbled back to the table.

Looking into the box again, my focus was grabbed by the plump mushroom. It, in turn, was grabbed by me. In a twist no one could have ever predicted, as my hands closed around the fungus, it disappeared, and like so much student debt, I began to grow. First my head hit the ceiling. Then the floor gave way. Life, it seems, is not built for the suddenly giant man.

I tried explaining this to the family that lived below me, but they were dead set on interrupting me with some noise about standing on their son. Humoring them, I looked down and became aware of exactly what had broken my fall. I did my best to shuffle off the poor soul with nonchalance, but it only served to tread him further into the ground. Y'know, it's funny, bigger really isn't better. I still had all the coordination of my regular-sized self, and there was little enough of that to go around then. I was like a giraffe wearing ice skates, which is really just a disaster.

I then tried explaining the humour I'd found in the situation, but they would have none of it. The patriarch of the group took it upon himself to throw a plate at my head. They must've been eating dinner at the time. I ended up covered in potatoes and groaning in pain and, this was a problem, shrinking. I guess the dish knocked the magic juice out of me. As the source of their grievances became a more easily tackled target, they began to close in on me. Never one to have a problem admitting defeat, I hastily scrambled for the exit and raced back up to my place.



Two items left in the package. I was starting to wonder if I'd been right to order this stuff. It came from the internet, so I'd assumed it was safe, but things were starting to get messy. Plus the people downstairs were glaring up at me through the hole in the floor and it was a little offputting. Still, what was the worst that could happen? Noting that the many sufferings of my life had usually followed that same thought, I picked up the red flower.

There was a pop like the sound of Satan facepalming, then gouts of flame began to shoot out of my hands. This was, well, unprecedented. I was suddenly a god of immolation. With a gleeful delight, I brought my new mastery over fire itself to bear on the fridge. Its white façade boiled away, taking with it the vast stores of mold ensconced foodstuffs it covered. I languorously shifted my implacable fire to first the toaster, then the coffee maker, then the picture of a sad clown my grandmother had painted. I'd always hated that clown.

I paused, momentarily satiated by my scorching hedonism. Half the kitchen was up in smoke and I was dancing in the ashes. It had turned into a good day after all. I hadn't been sure about buying these things since people had been saying they were for kids, but I'd had a lot of fun and after all, isn't that what's important? To make no mention of the lessons I'd learned about life, love, and fire.

Oh yeah. Fire.



I looked around at the inferno my kitchen had become. Pillars of flame had consumed my appliances and the layer of filth was only encouraging the blaze's advance. The family below and the vermin I'd come to know as my roommates seemed to have fled. Cowards. And what I would give to be one of them. To my consternation, a wall of fire had engulfed my escape route and was closing in. Things, ahem, weren't looking so hot. But seriously, I was in real jeopardy, it was hardly the time for jokes, no matter how clever.

My lungs filling with smoke, I cast about for an escape, but every turn only brought me up against the predatory tongues of the pyre. Heels burning and eyesight growing dim, I hauled myself onto the last place of refuge, the table in the middle of the room. Coughing and thinking my last thoughts of intense regret, I cast my eyes on the contents of the near-empty box at my feet. There sat the single glowing star. In a last act of desperation, I frantically grabbed it with my tear-soaked hands. As I took hold, it faded away.

A radiant, jaunty beat filled my ears.

All I could feel was a glorious warmth.

As the flames engulfed me, I laughed and laughed and laughed.