See, I told you the end was near. It’s right here!
Well, sort of. It’s the end of my story—the Tilda Huxley story—seeing as I was back to normal size and out of my shoebox prison. But it’s not the end of the bigger story. Because what I learned later was that Dr. Maverick McFadden was very upset. He was making his escape, disgusted with the pack of fools he’d been working with. (To clarify: those are his thoughts, not mine.) He slunk away, ducking behind tree after tree, with revenge on his mind. I imagined him muttering to himself, “Nosy Vexler, the new head of the lab?! It’s preposterous! It’s insulting!”
Of course, Vexler would take over unless he got back to the barn fast. He had to tend to a small problem, one that no one was aware of . . . yet. The animals and the fruit were fine. Mary, his wife, would soon be back to her normal size. But there was something else only Maverick McFadden knew about.
Sure, the experiments were unauthorized, but they were important! They needed to be done! (Again: his thoughts, not mine.) Unfortunately, they had resulted in a strange occurrence involving several pairs of socks.
As Maverick McFadden ran for the barn at a full sprint, I’m pretty sure he was thinking one thing and one thing only.
I must get rid of the socks!
I hope we meet again someday in the mysterious town of Nevermind!
Tilda Huxley, signing off!