New Hope For Small Men: Chapter 9

by Grant Bailie

Robert saw an ad on the side of a bus that read: “Now! At last! There is new hope for small men!” The ad showed a confident man with his hands on his hips, standing astride the skyline of the city. Robert could not tell what the ad was for exactly — the bus had been going by fast — but he wondered, and several days later he saw the ad again on a bus that was stopped at a red light.

This time, he saw the address for the company it was advertising but still nothing explaining their products or services beyond the confident man standing akimbo over the city. Was it possible that they had found a way to restart the growth process in already grown adults? The man over the city was grinning broadly — insanely even. What could make a man so happy? Were they selling a serum, a surgical procedure or elevator shoes?

The company’s name was Growth, and this also was too general to be of any help. It may have referred to either the physical or spiritual. Perhaps they made pills that increased a person’s sense of self worth, perhaps they were a church, or worse, some sort of center with special reading rooms and self-actualizing rooms and a chipper, fully self-actualized tour guide who explained every aspect of the facility, like they were selling you a package at a fitness center, but a fitness center that did so much more than build muscles, a spiritual fitness center that built up the human spirit, that made the soul itself into the rippling, broad-chested, tight-assed entity that would be sure to attract the wandering eye of God.

Robert hoped that it was not one of those places. As he walked to the address given in the advertisement he tried to imagine the sort of procedures that lengthening a fully adult person might involve: pills and hormone shots and radiation and racks. There would be side effects, of course. Fatigue, loss of appetite, dryness of mouth, itchy or irritable eyes, abdominal cramping, hair loss, headaches, loss of sexual appetite, irritability, impaired motor function, diarrhea, constipation, incontinence, kidney failure.

The building was just an office building, bland in the way of most office buildings — a couple dozen rows of unadorned windows, with a few bits of architectural business thrown in to differentiate it from the four other office buildings on the block.

It was an office building but he had known churches that had taken up residence in abandoned gas stations or converted convenient stores.

In the lobby there was a large sculpture of nothing in particular, made up of twisted bits of brushed aluminum and running water. Normal looking office people crossed the floor to and from the lobby. Against one wall was a large black sign listing the businesses and their floors.

Growth® occupied floors thirty through thirty-four. The receptionist was on thirty-one and Robert took the elevator up.

The receptionist was a large woman, with orange hair swirled on the top of her head. She looked up from her desk and smiled professionally as Robert approached, but then some other look of sorrow or regret or pity seemed to tug gently at the corners of her mouth as Robert got closer.

“You saw the ad,” she said and it sounded already almost like an apology.

“Yes,” Robert said.

“It’s for penis enlargement,” she said. She laid her hands out on the desk in front of her and spread out the fingers. The fingers were thick and decorated with numerous rings. Robert did not understand the point of this gesture, but it seemed to be attached to her contrition.

“Oh,” he said.

“The ad is a little unclear. I told them that. You’re like the tenth small person to come in. I told them about that ad.”

“I see,” said Robert.

“Some smaller than you,” she said.

“Well…” Robert said.

“Of course, I cannot speak for your penile needs.”

“No,” he said. “It was just the height thing. Thank you.”

Several people entered the elevator on his way back down to the street. They crowded him into the back corner. They were tall men and women. Not just people who were taller than him, which was hardly unusual, but abnormally tall people. They filled the elevator and hit their buttons and nobody spoke. The elevator stopped on many floors and more people got on and they were all very tall and Robert was forced further and further into the corner.

He stared at the smalls of their backs, the backs of their knees, the knuckles of his own hands. No music was playing in the elevator; there was only the sound of rustling clothes and nervous coughs. And then one by one they got off, and he was alone in the elevator again and he reached the bottom and left the building and walked out onto the sidewalk.

Robert was surprised at himself for not considering the possibility that the ad had been for penis enlargement. It seemed obvious to him now: the man standing open-legged over the city, with all the spires and towers of the city pointing upwards to his crotch. And the grin of the man — the insane grin; only a large penis could bring that much joy and confidence, to straddle cities, to let office workers gaze up in confusion and then admiration at your inseam that has blotted out the sun.

And it was not like Robert was a man who hadn’t given over a fair amount of his time to the thoughts, impulses, and dimensions of his penis. It was not large, but it was proportional and served his admittedly limited purposes.

But there it was. No process of grafting or growing for the entire length of a man. No new hope had been invented.

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