Dungeon Master

"Um, yeah, there's a six-pack in the fridge."

Footsteps creaked along the staircase as Luke descended.

He wore a pair of running shorts, long athletic socks, and bore a bare chest.

When he rounded the corner at the base of the stairs, he turned and laughed.

"Oh, Jesus.

Dorks and dragons again?

Home from college for one day and you're already huddled up inside the basement with your friends."

"At least I have friends," Harrison muttered.

"What was that?"

"You graduated like three years ago and you're still living with Mom and Dad, drinking beer

by yourself.

But I'm the loser."

"How about I kick your asses, huh?"

"I tossed a potion of great shrinkage," called out Derek, one of Harrison's friends at the

table.

He rolled a pair of dice with twelve sides, apparently rolled what he hoped for, and pumped

a fist into the air with a sense of victory.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Luke sneered.

But his voice grew quieter and squeakier as his clothes quickly became baggy.

The beers dropped from his hand when it shrunk too small to hold them anymore.

His clothes swallowed him up until he was the size of an ant, scurrying beneath the

...