Tiny Little Man

He was a tiny little man, with tiny little hands. He was small enough to fit in my pocket. Sometimes I dressed him up like a tiny little doll.

His appetite was small, as was his intellect. Because his point of view was so narrow, so were his horizons. It wasn’t his fault really. It was just that he was so very tiny.

Everything about him was proportional, from his tiny little head to his tiny little heart. The only problem was you could not trust him as far as you could throw him. It was quite the opposite actually.