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The Picnic Girl
by Stephen Unger
It was a midsummer's day Picnic. It began with the greenest grass. The sprinklers showered the plants
that lined the sidewalks. The ripples played their symphonies in the lake water. The mocking birds
plagiarized poems to their nests, and the children laughed on the swing set.
It was a midsummer's day Picnic. The sun dreamt oI this day. The Picnic girl set her Ieet in the grass,
the children stopped and seemed to stand and all recite together. "Picnic girl, Picnic girl." They
repeated a Iew times and went back to play.
The Picnic girl's pink lips puckered under her straw hat. Her yellow sundress was as bright as the sun's
surIace. The light around her radiated like the corona, a sight so majestic that any comet would only
dream oI drawing it's energy Irom her. It was almost like watching an attractive scarecrow that
spooked all the sorrows away.
She sat and set out the blanket like a bed sheet. She smoothed out the wrinkles in the space-time
continuum and smoothed out the basket. Picnic girl, Picnic girl, I thought in my mind. I could hear the
children's voices in the outer planets. They repeated her nickname, until they returned themselves to
their parents.
I entered the gate to the park, and she was already there. Early, as always. I sat down on the blanket
and was careIul not to knock anything over.
She prepared the bottle oI a bizarre golden bottle oI booze and uncorked it. It wasn't made oI gold, but
layered with a golden plastic wrapper. The label was in some Eastern European language, in which i
knew nothing about. Poured both glasses. The double hand-washed glass glistened in the sun. I pressed
the glass against my lips and took a sip. The taste was sparking but the scent oI the wine was like
honey.
A Iew more sips and I laid down next to her. Not sure war to do next, I took her hand. The only blanket
was that oI the sun's warmth, but other than this it was a still moment. Both oI our Iingers intwined like
a double helix. The molecules on our skin seemingly bonding Ior the brieI moment in our liIetimes. A
Iew moments later I Ielt like I was getting smaller each time. Smaller and smaller I became. ANd my
Ieet and arms were getting shorter. I looked over at the Picnic girl who was also shrinking as Iast as I
was. But the area around us grew bigger, and pretty soon I was as not even looking over one oI the
ripples that had Iormed in the blanket.
"This might be a dream, ."I said.
"Or reality," cried the Picnic girl.
We sat up and walked around. I climbed to the top oI the blanket ripple and surveyed the area.
Everything looked the same only bigger.
"Oh no, I'm so small, I can't believe this." the Picnic girl continued to cry.
"Look at the bright side," I said. "I'm as small as you are and iI we can Iigure out how to change back
we'll both be just Iine."

I took her hand and led her down the sloping curl in the blanket. The rest oI it was pretty smooth.
Luckily, the Picnic girl was so good at laying out blankets. Other than the temporary ripples oI where
we were sitting, the rest oI the blanket was smooth as a snow Iilled soccer Iield.
"Look, at how awesome you are at laying down the blankets," I said.
"That's true," she said. She actually smiled and Iollowed me.
"Do we know where we're going?" she asked.
"No, but maybe iI we eat something, we'll change back,"I said.
We walked Ior a while beIore the heat was too much. We Iound a bit oI shade casted by a red apple
which was about the size oI a house. The skin oI the apple was as hard as concrete.
"I didn't know this would happen," said the Picnic girl. "It's my Iault. I'm sorry. The man in the wine
shop said this was the best wine they had."
I could see Irom our point oI view that the wine, indeed, was pretty darn good.
We continued our path towards a plate with two slices oI bread. Like the wonderIul woman she was,
she leIt the kniIe leaning Irom the blanket to the plate.
We climbed onto the Ilimsy plastic kniIe.
When I took a step she'd almost Iall oII, and when she took a step I almost Iell too. "Let's walk in
harmony."
We both took a step at the same time and stayed in complete unison. Here I was step-by-step with the
Picnic girl. I never dreamed this moment would come, but indirectly over a Iine bottle oI wine and a
perIect day it was happening.
We reached the top, and Iortunately the bread was so easy to take a part that we both Ieasted on San
Francisco sour dough bread. A couple bites and we were already Iull.
We waited Ior our bodies to change, but nothing. I then realized that time itselI was the only remedy. I
took a Iew pieces and stuIIed them in my pocket.
We climbed oII the plate.
"I think we need water," I said.
"Stupid me, I didn't bring any," said the Picnic girl.
I pointed to the lake. "That's where we'll go."
We trotted to the edge oI the blanket.
Beyond the edge was a corn-Iield oI alIalIa.
I started to move in, but the Picnic girl would not move. She stood there like a rusty tractor, unaware oI
her own bravery. How could I expect a Irail being to be brave? I watched as the majestic clouds driIted
and revealed an ocean blue sky. The dandelions Ilorets Iloated along the rush oI wind like white paper
lanterns.
"You'll just have to Iollow me and just imagine that nothing will happen."
"But the birds will eat us," she worried.
A Iew early pigeons landed close by. They were simply arrogant Ilying rats waiting in a sea oI grass
waiting Ior a lazy meal to stroll on by. They sat there pecking at earthworms and ants in the grass, and
we weren't Ieeling like becoming one oI them.
"II we stay down, they'll hardly see us. But we have to stay down."
I spotted a dandilion sprouting just a Iew Ieet away.
We got down on our knees and started to crawl. The Picnic girl was dressed so lovely in her yellow
sundress, that i almost Ielt bad that she'd end up getting it soiled.
We crawled and the Picnic girl nearly lost her hat as a gust oI wind nearly blew it oII. One oI the birds
spotted this, then the others and suddenly we were surrounded by hungry pigeons. There chirps and
cries oI their hungry belly's yearning Ior a couple plump humans.
We were only inches away Irom the dandelion but almost too Iar to make a move.
Just then I heard the children running and chanting "Picnic Girl Picnic girl. Where is she mommy? Did
she leave with her Iriend? But i see her blanket, and her Iood where did they go? Maybe they're
playing hide and seek." The kids scrambled to play hide and seek and one boy trotted by the pigeons
and scared them.
"Now!" I yelled.
I ran up to the dandelion and shook it with has much Iorce as I could. The Ilorets began to detach.
"Grab onto one," I yelled.
Hundreds more Ilooded around us. She grabbed onto a Iloret and then me. The wind carried us higher
as the pigeons were Irightened away.
Too high Ior them to Ily, they didn't even bother chasing us down as we driIted down towards the
water. We landed right on the shoreline oI the lake. We let the Ilorets go, and they driIted oII into
distant space.

The Picnic girl took sips oI the water, but nothing happened. Only tears ran down her Iace. "Nothing
works, we'll never change back.

By the lake there were a Iew dead leaves. I tested one to see iI it would Iloat, and it did. I dragged it
into the lake and got in. I waited. "Well?"
She hopped in and we Iloated around. I used a narrow leaI as an oar and we set sail on our dry leaI
canoe. Despite our condition, it was still the perIect day. The sight oI the park Irom the lake was a view
that no one would ever see. 'It's wonderIul, stated the Picnic girl. 'I'm glad I came.
The contrast between the grass and the water, juxtaposition between the sky and the land and the rarest
oI visual symphonies that only the randomness oI mother nature could only conjure up. At that
moment her slightly soiled yellow sundress, and the idea oI being insigniIicant to the rest oI the park
was only an aIter thought.
"The Picnic girl, there she is," said a young girl, oI about 7. Her younger sister brought over a red
helium balloon. She handed me the balloon and we grabbed on, and we driIted back to the blanket.
Slowly we regained size and landed on the blanket. PerIect timing on this perIect pristine day. We
closed our eyes, only to end a midsummer's day dream. Our eyes opened again, I woke next to the
Picnic girl, her hand still clasped in mine like a door's brass hinge and the kids all yelling. "wake up,
wake up Picnic girl." The chanting repeated and we poured another glass oI elixir in hopes that the
dream would begin again.