Wow! Get a room, motherfuckers.

Sure, Central Park could be romantic. Especially there along the mall, its stony avenue lined by handsome long-limbed trees. Bright white snow covered their branches, thick as the margins on a page. It was as if one sat inside of a wintry postcard.

But that did not forgive the display that April was a witness to at that present moment.

As she scowled at the couple who sat on the bench opposite of hers, she was forced to recall the facehugger from Alien, for they grappled and glommed in wild fashion.

With all that slobber shared between the pair, it was a wonder that their mouths did not freeze together. And how did that feel good—were they going to have any teeth left when they were done? The way they clawed at each other's faces, it was a surprise to April that they did not shave off a cheek, or an ear. It was about as sweet and appealing as observing a couple of wolverines

And, of course, every few moments, April and the woman who kissed her lover across the way locked eyes; his eyes flashed at her, too.

That was one dynamic in particular that always bugged April to no end, when an amorous couple enjoyed the attention that their gross kissing frenzy might attract.

April just wanted to sit at the mall and get some fresh air, do a little people watching, read her book. In peace.

She had entirely forgotten that it was Valentine's Day besides, until the noticeable glut of mouthy twosomes caused her to wonder what the hell was in the water.

April stared at the couple; she stared through them.

The pair carried on snuggling, and kissing, and feeding one another chocolates from the red heart-shaped box that was perched between them—their eyes flickered every so often toward April.

It took her a moment to realize that, at some point, they had disappeared.

And no, they had not gotten up and gone: they just vanished. Poof!

Their clothes were still there on the bench and on the ground, two untidy piles.

Their red heart had fallen, too, its treats scattered.

April looked to her left; she looked to her right.

There was no one else nearby to share her surprise.

And she did not spy the couple running off naked somewhere.

April replaced her book in her bag and stood. She went over to the other bench, where the piled garments were. Irrationally—or, perhaps, quite intelligently—she was as nervous as she was excited by this sudden curiosity. How did people just disappear into thin air? Was she going to disappear as well?

April paused. She searched the sky, just to make sure there were no flying saucers or anything like that; she glanced around, but there were no other heaps of haphazardly discarded clothes.

Just these two piles that the face-hugging couple had left.

With the pointed toe of her boot, April poked at the mounds. Yep: those are clothes, she thought. She did not want to touch the abandoned attire with her bare flesh, worried that they might be contaminated.

She kicked a few of the chocolates around: they appeared to be little faces that wore all manner of different expressions. Their designers meant for them to be cute or funny, April imagined. One in particular caught her eye: it winked at her, and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

April sighed. She quickly grew bored of the mystery.

Then she spied movement. A bump slowly worked its way along one of the sleeves of the man's sweater. April's eyes widened as she watched the lump progress. Had some critter already burrowed through the garments? Should she step on it? Whatever it was moved with purpose and determination toward its freedom.

She gasped at what emerged from the end of the sleeve: a tiny creature that was clearly human-shaped.

A tiny, naked little man.

The man, now naked and tiny.

Oh, god, April thought, of course—just like criminals, perverts, or idiots, they had managed to shrink themselves. This was too good. So which of the latter two categories did this pair fit into, she wondered.

April squatted so that she could better examine him; there was something pleasing about how massive her shadow was around his miniature form.

He glanced down at his own nudity, and then gazed up at her. His head had raised slowly; the slow motion of someone who did not quite know what it was that they took in, and did not want to believe what they knew they beheld. His itty-bitty face became horrified and he let out a quiet scream that she could only just hear.

It probably was not the appropriate response, but April laughed before she could catch herself. It was not his fear, so much—although, after how she had boiled at the pair, there was an odd relief in that—but he was like a little cartoon character; a living doll. A toy.

Instinctively, without really thinking, April reached her hand toward him.

She was big, he was tiny.

She could pick him up if she wanted to.

What was he going to do about it?

He watched her clawed fingers lower, his terror plainly painted. He screamed even louder this time—though it was still little more than a squeak to April's ears.

Her hand paused in the air. Gosh, he was so scared of her!

I must look like a scary giant to him, April mused.

That's cool.

April's hand resumed its motion, only to pause again in another second. From the other pile of clothing, the woman had emerged from the waistline of her deflated skirt, likewise tiny and just as naked.

April watched her with interest: as the man had, she glanced down at her own nudity, and then glanced at her partner's—and then she slowly, stiffly gazed up along the length of April's looming body and she shrieked. Like, she put her hands on either side of her face and wailed as if she was a pathetic damsel in some dumb movie.

So this is how Godzilla feels, April thought with a chuckle.

The little man turned and ran, even as his lover was frozen in place. He left her behind.

"Wow! So much for your knight in shining armor."

April did not have to lean forward. She reached out and her hand caught up with him. He twisted when he sensed her fingers above him, and swung his arms at the air as if he might swat her appendages away—each of her fingers was thicker around than he was, so April really could not fathom what he hoped to accomplish. Like, with anything that he had tried.

Her fingertips formed a ring around his narrow waist.

She pinched him and hoisted him upward—

Oh!

A long jet of blood shot out from the tiny man's mouth, splashed across her fingers and painted a slash of a line along the ground before the screaming woman, who afterward screamed more ardently; at the same time, what looked like all of the inch-tall man's internal organs ejected downward from between his legs and slopped against the pavement to form a gruesome pile.

"Oh. . ."

He twitched, then went limp between April's comparatively giant fingers; a stream of crimson leaked from between his legs as if his anus was a faucet that was left running.

"Um. . ."

April relaxed her fingers and the corpse slid from their ends, dropped like it was a boneless heap, landed with a brutal snap. The man fell flat, still, lifeless; an expanding pool of bright blood and dark plasma spread from under his ass.

"Wow. Gosh! Shit."

April looked at the woman, then; the woman was silent, and stared back at April.

Her mouth was agape. Even with how small her face was, April could discern how the woman's features twitched.

Now the woman turned and ran from her.

Flash: the woman's eyes flickered impetuously at April as she locked lips with her lover on the opposite bench.

"Well—No. No, I don't think so."

April stood; up and up she rose: her face tilted down and down as she tracked her prey. She had never felt particularly tall before, but she did right then—she was towering, looming; a skyscraping woman. What a rush, god!

The diminutive woman got nowhere fast. She was wholly swallowed up by April's shadow. The gloom spread out all around her, a landmass of darkness; it would take her many minutes to escape its borders.

April took a step forward. A simple step—not even a full step.

Her sleek black boot cla-clacked onto the stone of the avenue just beside the fleeing bug-person. Suddenly the little woman was like one of those goofy windblown characters at a car dealership: her limbs flew all around her like loose spaghetti noodles.

Wow, she was really freaking out.

April indulged in her laughter.

The de facto colossus smirked and brought her other foot forward; she tapped at the tiny woman's back with the toe of her shoe.

The woman shrieked, fell forward, tumbled.

On the ground she writhed, and April realized that the simple motion was probably enough to break her back, or at least put her in some serious hurt.

April stood with her hands on her hips, and allowed the woman a moment to right herself as best she could. She flopped onto her back, and even as she spasmed and curled uncontrollably, she raised a fearful arm to shield herself as she gazed up at April. Oh, those itty-bitty eyes... Even from the heavens, they were so wonderfully full of horror!

Then April lifted a leg, and held the sole of her boot over the tiny woman—a little off to the side, so that April could still watch her.

April permitted the woman a little more time, so that she could scream her pain, and futilely wriggle backward, grub-like. Though April could barely hear her, it was clear: this tiny creature begged her to spare it.

They both knew.

What happened to him was an accident.

This. . .

April swallowed from how her mouth watered.

She licked her lips.

Lowered her foot.

Carefully she pinned the woman beneath her shoe from the neck down. Only her little head was visible beyond the boot's keen sable peak. Her tiny body was as fragile a presence as a wisp's.

With great interest April studied the tortured face of the tiny woman.

April stared into her eyes; the tearful eyes stared back.

Shake, shake, shake, went the little head.

April's eyes flashed, like she was in her bedroom with a lover—

It was effortless: the barest bit of weight and the woman was ruined in an instant, crackling like a stepped-on cricket.

Ruby tendrils snaked across stone.

April had felt the minuscule skeleton crunch through the sole of her boot, just beneath her toes and the ball of her foot. That minute rattle traveled up her leg and gathered in her hips, electric.

The tiny woman's expression was frozen—a Munch-esque scream.

Her eyes were flat; lightless, lifeless.

April licked her open lips, a lioness.

An ice-cold shiver raced up her spine and tickled all of her ribs.

Hot exhale; she remembered where she was.

April looked ahead of herself; she looked behind herself.

There was no one nearby to share in her exultant arousal.

She twisted her foot at the ankle and considered the mess on her boot sole. There was a splatter of scarlet on the ground, but the woman's pulped body was strewn across the smooth bottom of her shoe. Beyond the boot's point, the fruit pit of a head was still intact.

April's lips curled as she plucked at what was left of the woman—her flattened form peeled off like a wet leaf—and flung the remains with disdain.

The tiny woman's head crunched beneath the heel of April's boot as the lioness prowled onward—claclack, claclack, claclack—hands stuffed in her jacket pockets.

Her fingertips teased the flesh of her stomach through the layered material, traced the edges of the bone at her hips.

Oh yes: she was headed straight home.

To her tub.

Vibrator.

Wine.

And a bit more of her book. In peace.