Nick walked by. "I may be joining your group some day..." he whispered in a creepy "the killer is still inside the house and that makes me want to touch myself suggestively" kind of way.
"Who the hell was that!?" Tribby squeaked as she worked over the last, rather specific paragraph.
Tribby paused. "Was... was that a... did I just... squeak?"
Tribby looked around. Why was everything so huge?
There was what appeared to be a mountain of rope, and, to her delight, a mountain of jerky in her immediate vicinity.
"Man. I'd hate to meet the duckcow they made that sucker from..." she squeaked again.
"Why the heck am I... ooooOOooh." She oooh-squeaked.
"I'm still tiny. Right."
Tribby paused, and surveyed her surroundings. "And, I'm guessin' I'm in Gluestick's saddlebags..." she finished, shrugging and taking a bite out of the mountain of Jerky.
"fffffHKkKKOINK!" hiss/squawk/oinked the huge, acid spitting wormbirdpig that had been residing in one of the apples within the pouch.
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