Last chapter of the day. Hope you few who are reading this story are enjoying it!

“I thought so,” said the protector with a grim smile. “That is the Grak, one of the most feared and most powerful race of creatures in this galaxy. I’m not surprised you saw one of them nearby. They’ve been causing some trouble lately.”

“Trouble?” asked George curiously.

“They’re always causing trouble,” said the Protector. “I see it all the time on the 6:00 o’clock news. Come here and I’ll show you.” With that he walked over and flopped onto the couch (the claws immediately started scratching him again) and said to the empty air in front of him, “last night’s six o’clock news, please—the segment on the Grak.”

Instantly an image appeared in the air in front of the protector. It was a three dimensional view of a three-headed newscaster, giving all of the current events across the galaxy. It looked so real that George had a hard time believing it was a broadcast of a creature millions of light years away. He couldn’t see where the image was coming from.

“…Boof Spinet, the intergalactic singing star,”one of the three heads stated in a surprisingly high pitched voice, “was found last night on the garbage planet of Moogbruth, nearly suffocated under a pile of manuremog. Authorities are still questioning Spinet as to how he came to be on the planet, although some observers speculate he went there to get some inspiration for a new song.

“—and in other news,” said one of the other three heads of the newscaster, “the Grak envoy to the supreme parliament got into a brawl on the floor of the parliament chamber with the representative of the Noovian system. The argument was apparently over trade issues, and allegations by the Noovians that the Grak have seized control of three of their trade planets. This is the third fight by a Grak on the floor of parliament this year…”

During this report the three dimensional picture in the air had changed to show a Grak fighting a pencil thin purple creature with 4 noses (all of which were bloody).

“Disgusting,” said the protector with a snort. “That’s enough news, thank you.” The image in the air faded and disappeared.

“Graks are always fighting and causing trouble,” said the protector. “They really shouldn’t even let them into parliament, but I guess they figured that was better than going to war with them. They’re quite a powerful race, you know.”

Before George could reply, his cell phone rang. The protector jumped off the couch as if he’d been shot by a rocket. “Gorzubee!” he cried, looking around wildly. “I know the sound of every gadget in here, and that’s not one of them! What was that?”

George laughed as the phone rang again. “It’s just my cell phone. My mom is calling. She calls all the time since my Dad disappeared.”

The protector grinned sheepishly. “I knew that,” he said flimsily. “It sounded like a cell phone.”

George punched the button on the phone to talk to his mother.

“George?” she sounded worried. “You said you’d be back in an hour, and you’re not here! Where are you?”

“Sorry Mom,” George replied. “I’m still at the park. I met this, uh, bird, and I lost track of time.”

“A bird?” she cried. “Well look, young man, you’d better be here in 15 minutes or you’ll be grounded for a week! O.k?”

“O.k.” said George weakly. “Sorry. I’ll be right there.”

Clicking off the phone, George turned to the protector. “I’ve got to go now or I’ll be in big trouble. But there’s still so much I wanted to ask and so much we need to do!”

“Can you meet tomorrow morning?” asked the protector.

“Probably,” replied George, “if I get home real fast right now.” He turned to go. “Will I really get bigger when I go through the door?”

“Yep,” replied the protector. “I set it to downsize when you come through the passenger car window, and upsize as soon as you take a few steps past the door. So watch your head or you’ll end up jammed under the seat of the car.”

George opened the door and looked out at the mountainous kernels of popcorn strewn across the floor of the car beneath the passenger seat.

“Sorry about the popcorn mess,” said the protector in embarrassment. “Martin really likes popcorn, but he’s not too careful when he eats it.”

“Martin?” asked George.

“He’s my driver,” replied the protector. “I don’t like driving in this new, modern traffic, so I got Martin to do it for me. He’s outside on the park bench. You probably saw him.”

“I did?” said George blankly. The events before coming into the protector’s car now seemed so long ago. Then he remembered the man he had seen sleeping on the park bench opposite the car. “Oh, yeah, I remember now,” he said. “Does he live in here too? He seemed awful big.” George felt comfortable with the protector, but wasn’t sure he liked the thought of a strange man hanging around next time he came to visit.

“He does,” replied the protector, “and he takes up hardly any space at all. But I’ll explain tomorrow – you’ve got to get going or your mother won’t let you meet tomorrow!” Then the protector gave George a little push through the door.

As George stumbled forward he watched in amazement as a popcorn kernel the size of a boulder seemed to shrink and fade away from him. His head smacked against the bottom of the seat. Twisting around George found himself as his regular size, sitting halfway between the seat and the floor. Hearing a muffled sound, he looked down at his foot. He could barely hear the protector’s tiny voice yelling, “GET YOUR FOOT OFF THE DOOR!”

George quickly moved his foot, and saw the protector, the size of a tiny toy soldier, standing just inside the door. He yelled up at George, “You nearly broke the door with your foot when you expanded.”

“Sorry,” said George. The protector covered his ears. “Not so loud,” he yelled up at George. “You have to whisper when you talk to someone my size, or you’ll deafen them.”

“Sorry,” whispered George again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning in front of your house,” the protector yelled. “You’d better go home fast, or you won’t make it!”

George stared stupidly at him for a moment, still fascinated at how tiny he looked, and how the little door looked like it belonged on a doll house.

“Get going!” yelled the protector up at him again. Suddenly remembering his mother’s threats, George twisted around, hopped out the window and ran for home as fast as he could go.