Flying has never been something you enjoyed much. Still flying without a plane just out and out sucks. Considering your only about and inch tall the landing should hurt. Hell, hurt nothing it should kill you. Even a foot drop should be enough to turn you into a little smear, and you are more than a little sure that your flight was higher than a foot. Probably something like three or four. Yet you land on the grill with a dull, clink.
You hang for a moment over the bar of the grill, your armpits hooked over the bar and holding you over the bottom of the fire pit. Looking over at the table you can only guess that some random act of fate stopped you from getting your arms ripped off and then breaking every bone in your body as you slam into the metal bottom of the grill. As it is you are mystified by what just happened. You are so mystified in fact that you don't hear any booming, and your first warning that something is up is when a shadow falls over you.
At first you have some hope that one of the family saw your little flight and is coming to investigate, but that illusion is quickly dispersed as you look up to find Mr. Amos standing over you, a bag of charcoal in hand, and unfortunately for you, his head turned towards his family though what he's saying you can't hear. You don't understand why, but then you don't get that much time to care as the ground under you suddenly begins to move and rumble.
With a grinding sound the rust covered hinges give to Mr. Amos, and the grill pops up, but thanks to the way your holding on you don't go flying, and instead just slide down the length of the iron rod, until you slam into the wall. Looking over towards the titanic form of Mr. Amos affords a view of coal being dumped into a grill, and then the hiss and smell of lighter fluid as he crushes the can between his hands. As if that weren't enough to knock you out the man quickly strikes a match and tosses it among the black boulders. Setting them ablaze in crimson glory.
Trying to claw your way up onto the bar, and thus away from the flames, only seems to draw the fast rising pillars towards you, and soon your entire world is blackened by the smoke coming off of the coal. Unable to see you are taken completely by surprise when the world slams down again, and you are sent up on a short hop, before coming down on some grainy, gravely red surface that smells strangely of blood.
It doesn't take you more than a hundredth of a second to realize that you are on a hamburger patty sitting on a grill. It takes you even less time to realize that the shadow above you , with holes of light shining through it, is a spatula. Again you hear a slight ringing sound, though this time you ignore it for the more ‘pressing' matter at hand.
"No, Mr. Amos! Don't! I'm down here!!!" you cry out towards the giant wielding the metal tool, but over the hiss and roar of the flames, and the chatter of his own family, Mr. Amos doesn't hear your pathetic squeak. With a crushing force the spatula pushes you into the hard, yet somehow malleable surface below you. Understanding your predicament you make a grab for one of the holes in the smooth metal, and when it rises again you are...
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