Spotlights came on, and a chorus of cheers and hollering rang throughout the trailer park as Littles poured out of every nook and cranny.
“WOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Stilts. That’s what the click clacking at been. Stilts, not heels. Surrounding us and laughing, were five Little men on stilts, Amazonian sized trench coats draped over their shoulders. They were Gwiffining!
The tension fled out of my body as even Bert started slapping his knees, and howls of laughter peeled through the air. The girls, baby Ollie in tow, walked through the gathered crowd.
A tall shadow loomed over me. The faux Amazons were closing in. One had a wig on, his face caked with poorly applied makeup in clownish proportions. Another had a false beard that went down past his stomach. One wore glasses too big for their head. In classic Little tradition, all of them had made themselves positively ridiculous parodies with Amazonian standards of maturity.