It's a desperation move, to be sure, but you don't have time to stop and think about it. You spin the dial on the gun to "transform," aim it at yourself, and leap as her toes come toward you. You see the flaking silver paint on her toes as the light appears to dim. "I want to be part of that paint!" you cry, depressing the trigger.
The world goes dark. For a moment, you're dimly aware of feeling flattened, like a pancake, and a steady motion that varies from rhythmic to unpredictable to dead stop to unpredictable to rhythmic, over and over. Slowly, you regain your senses.
You can see that it's actually not pitch-black, but it's close. The foot to which you're attached is encased in a shoe, and the only light getting is is coming through two small air-holes on each side. You try to look around, but the world is weird -- you see a rise off in the distance of pink, which seems to jut up in the air. You realize that's just her cuticle. You can't imagine how little an area on her toe you cover, but it must be miniscule.
Ah well. It doesn't smell great in her shoe, but you've had worse. And while she has this annoying tendency to squinch up her toes every so often, you're relatively secure. You wonder what movie she's going to.
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