I can’t help being a little guy. Been this way forever. Three, five. Now if I was thirty-five feet, that would be something. Taller than tall, quicker than quick, stronger than strong, ready to fight for right against wrong, Gigantor.  More like the incredible shrinking man, shrunk.

      At least I’m not on that construction job any more. Me a roofer! How’bout I’d fall, splat. That’d be the end of me. This is much safer holding signs at a street corner. Lot’s of people do it besides me.

     There’s Andy McKay. He’s been doing it for two years now. He’s got the sign for Jane’s Vintage Collectibles. I’ve never been much into shopping. I’d rather eat. Sink my teeth into my work. Black Eyed Pig BBQ, that’s my sign. I hold it and eat it and look a little like a pig, round but happy.

      But, that’s what I sell. Happy. Always smiling. That’s what they do on TV to sell stuff, always smiling. And if they see my smile, maybe they’d forget for a second that I’m such a little man, but he’s the one with the big heart.

      Okay, a bit of a clown too. I got this goofy hat on. All these colors. Blue and yellow and purple and green and pink and blue again. Sometimes I’m blue, but that doesn’t sell so I’ll keep that on my hat and go with the pink. Ladies like pink, and they like me; they think I’m cute. I think they are enormous. Would like to climb all over them. But, I’m 49 and I’ll just settle for petting my dog and going to church.

      Now I am a big man at church. Everybody knows me. Maybe they feel sorry for me. At least somebody feels something for me. I’ll take it. I can take it. And at my height I can look up their dresses and people could think it’s normal and be okay and forgiving.