The bar was packed as I moved through it to get another drink. The remaining ice in my gin&tonic was jingling as I squeezed through the crowd to finally secure a spot at the bar. I still wasn't sure why my friends wanted to come all the way out to Brooklyn just to come to this place.

Sure, there were video games, and that was cool, I guess, if you were like a nerd or something. All the bartenders had this pretentious hipster vibe to them though. Plus, they were treating me like shit, just because I wasn't drinking their gay fancy beers or whatever. It's not my fault this place didn't have real beer like bud light.

The girls weren't even that cute. They were all stereotypical hipster chicks; pale skin, weird make-up, huge glasses, and definitely not down to fuck. Now here I was standing at the bar waving a twenty back and forth while the bartenders ignored me. Fuckers better not be expecting a tip.

Then someone tapped me on the shoulder, so I turn around, and it's this chick. Like every other woman in the place she had pale skin, her dark brown hair was done up in a pony tail at the top of her head, she had huge black plastic glasses around her brown eyes, and her lips were this bright red shock of globby lipstick. “Hey asshole,” she said, “You're in my seat.”

“What?” I replied, noticing that I had shoved aside one of the bar stools to get this open spot at the bar.

She gestured to a nearly empty glass of beer with a coaster set on top of it, and then she pointed at some tote bag that sat on a hook below the bar. “My seat, bro,” she said the last word with complete sarcasm, “You're in it.”

“Whatever, let me just get a drink and I'll be gone,” I turned to once more begin waving my twenty at the bartender. Normally I'd probably apologize, maybe even make a play for her, but not on some chick who was probably some weird artist or writer for some obscure music magazine. Fuck, by the look of her, she was probably a lesbian anyway. I tried to get the bartender's attention again, when she tapped my shoulder once more. This time it was a lot harder, like it almost hurt.

As I turned around, I felt weird, like her shoulder tap had some how pushed me lower. I noticed her lipstick covered mouth curl into a smile revealing a set of white teeth, as I shifted to eye level with her, and then below that. Everything seemed to be getting bigger, and fast. While at first I felt like she was just creepily standing at her full height or something, the whole bar was now spinning out of control as the floor expanded beneath me.

By the time everything stopped, I found myself behind the foot-rest I had been leaning on while trying to get the bartender's attention. I watched as the twenty I had just been holding fell down next to me. In its crumpled up state it rose to my waist, and then the largest hand I'd ever seen descended on it, grasping it between long, thin fingers that had red nail polish.

That's when I panicked.

I didn't know if someone had slipped me a drug, or if I were hallucinating, or if it really happened, but I was really fucking small. I followed up the pale, bare arm from the hand to see a face like a mountainside smiling down at me. It was the girl whose seat I had apparently been in. I was panting, and backing up against the bar as her enormous teeth shined in the dim bar light. Her voice cut through the noise of the bar like she was on a PA system, “I'll be back for you in a second, little guy.”

That was when I noticed the sound, it was like everything was playing through stadium speakers. The loud early 90s grunge was suddenly like I was up next to a speaker at a festival show, and every conversation was now too loud to even make out, just a constantly near-deafening white noise. As I finally got a grip on the noise, I realized I needed to get out of here before that bitch who shrank me did whatever it was she was going to do to me.

I knew it'd be weird, but I'd need to find my friends. As I looked around the sea of legs and feet though, I started to wonder if that was really a good idea. Not only could I not remember what the hell they were wearing tonight, I couldn't even begin to guess who they were just by their shoes. That's when I caught sight of the feet in the distance crashing into the ground just as people walked or shifted their weight a little. The sad realization quickly dawned on me, there was no way I was going to make it away from the bar and live, just one misstep by anyone and I was dead. I'd have to move behind the foot rest of the bar and hope my friends either got a drink soon or I could find someone that could help me.

Just as I was about to enact my plan though, I was struck head on by the pointed tip of the giant hipster girl's brown patent leather shoe. I stared across it, and while the pain of the shoe tip digging into my abdomen spread through my body, I couldn't help but take in every detail of this massive shoe. It was like something out of that Sherlock Holmes movie, like old English sort of stuff I mean, with shiny brown leather, a bunch of fancy stitching and holes, and coming up to just around her heel with super thin laces that she had tied up tight. I then shook my head, I was being pressed against a bar by some fucking pretentious hipster bullshit.

That's when I heard the voice of one of those snobby fucking bartenders asking her, “Hey what happened to that guy?”

“That asshole? He left,” She said in response.

“Good. Can you believe that guy asked for a bud light?” The bartender yelled across what to me was the now massive expanse of the bar.

“Bud light? What a douche,” My captor replied as the toe of her shoe ground deeper into my chest. I let out a small yelp of pain, as she announced, “Could I get another drink, I wouldn't be surprised if he fucking roofied me or something.”

“Yeah, sure what can I get you?”

As the conversation turned inevitably toward the ridiculous craft beers this bar apparently specialized in, I pounded against the girl's shoe, hoping that this torture would just end. As I pounded against the shiny brown leather though, I could feel her toes flex playfully in response and then she once again dug the tip of her shoe into my body as if to say, she was just getting started.