Should've Thought About That (2024)

“Chris, please!” Kyle’s tiny voice cracked as he screamed up from the porch, his body no bigger than a bug on the weathered wood. His arms flailed in desperation. “I’ll talk to John, I swear!”

Chris loomed over him like a living skyscraper, his shadow stretching over the pathetic little speck at his feet. His boot scraped against the floor, sending a tremor through Kyle’s miniature body. A smirk tugged at Chris’s lips as he folded his arms.

“Yeah, can’t really hear ya, pal,” he mused, his voice laced with mock sympathy. He could hear him just fine, of course—he just didn’t care. Kyle had always run his mouth about what he’d do if he ever shrank. Now, that nightmare had come true, and Chris was the one who found him first. Something he should've thought about.

And Kyle? Kyle had made promises. Empty ones. He swore he’d put in a good word with their foreman, get Chris on the next job. But then the shrinking virus hit, reducing him to an insignificant bug before he could follow through. Chris didn’t get the job. Didn’t get the money. Now, Kyle was at his feet, pleading.

“Please, take me to John! I swear, we can fix this! I can fix this!” Kyle’s voice was raw with desperation. He craned his neck, screaming himself hoarse, hands clasped together in a useless prayer.

Chris only sneered. He bent slightly at the waist, tilting his head, pretending to strain to hear.

“Wow, I really can’t hear you,” he said flatly, his tone devoid of any real concern. “But then again, you never were great at listening either, were you?”



Chris sighed dramatically, rolling his shoulders as he glanced down at the pathetic little figure on the porch. Kyle was still screaming, still scrambling backward like that would somehow help him. Chris just let him wear himself out, the way a cat would let a mouse run circles before it got bored.

“Man, this is really something,” Chris muttered, flexing his fingers. “I mean, I should be mad at you, right? Because of you, I didn’t get that job. Money’s tight, bills are stacking up. Real bad situation, Kyle.”

Kyle was nodding furiously, hands raised in surrender. “I know, I know! That’s why I’ll fix it! I’ll tell John everything, I swear, I’ll—”

Chris lifted his boot slightly.

Kyle froze.

Just the motion—just that single, lazy movement—shut him up. His whole body went rigid, breath hitched, eyes locked on the massive, treading-ridged sole that hovered over him.

Chris tilted his head and scoffed. “Bro, come on…what could you do, and why would I believe you now?”

Kyle’s body trembled violently. 

“Because—because you have to! Please, man, don’t do this! We—we’ve known each other for years! We’re friends! I can make this right!”

Chris exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. 

“Yeah, see, that’s the thing, Kyle…” He let his foot lower just enough for Kyle to feel the oppressive heat from the sole, the weight of his entire world tilting toward him. “I don’t think you can…”

Kyle barely had time to scream.

Chris didn’t stomp, didn’t grind—he didn’t even make a show of it. He simply let his foot settle down like it always had, casual, effortless. A soft crunch barely registered beneath him.

For a second, he just stood there, shifting his weight slightly, feeling the minuscule squish beneath his arch. He rubbed his jaw, considering.

Then, finally, he stepped back.

 What was left of Kyle was nothing. A vague, reddish smear against the old wooden porch, already drying in the afternoon sun. No job would have fixed this. No promises.

Chris exhaled, stretching, rolling the tension from his shoulders.

“Well… that’s that.” He glanced down at the mess, lips curling slightly. “You were kind of a pain in the ass anyway.”


With one final swipe of his boot against the wood, he turned away. No remorse. No second thoughts. He had bigger problems.

Chris stepped back inside, shutting the door behind him. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, taking a slow swig as he leaned against the counter, already forgetting about his act outside.

He still needed to find a job.