Very small

Very small, I am able to stand under one of the chairs in the audience. Very small, I have a key in my mouth and a coin under my feet. When a hand reaches under the chair I gasp and retreat. The hand gropes around, the hand is desperate to find something. What an awful beast the hand is. I leap from side to side. I hop over the hand and fret I may have touched it. Frantic moments. O Oprah, don't you give a damn about the fate of the wee folk? Oh, I have dropped the key. The hand has got a sweaty hold of it. I shall never be able to drive off in a car in which I must attach a human cane to my leg to press on the gas and sit on the high hat of a jester to peer over the wheel.