My Mysterious Family: Tiny Tommy

Tiny Tommy they called him. At a miniscule 3’10’ Tommy Greene was almost invisible. His parents were not small, only him. He did not have any disability, no facial deformation. He was just small. Tommy tried his best to live a normal life. At age 12, at a microscopic 3’3’’, Tommy learned how to ride the smallest of bicycles (The kind that the clowns would ride at the circus). He played baseball and was surprisingly good at it. Due to his small stature his strike zone was about the size of a generous scoop of ice cream. He never hit the ball, but his career OBP (on base percentage) was .894. Despite his size Tiny Tommy had a big voice; in a way. The tone and timbre of his voice was what you’d expect out of a 3’10’’ frame. When he talked it was almost impossible to understand. Anybody unfortunate enough to hear him make an utterance cringed as a voice powered with helium-filled lungs spoke out of amplifiers turned up to their highest volume. All the cats of the world hissed and all of the cars in the world came to a screeching halt, which only seemed to make Tommy’s voice more unbearable. His voice did have an upside. Tommy loved dogs, and dogs loved him. The dogs would follow him every time he went out. His voice to dogs was a sugar sweet soprano falsetto that would make their hearts flutter with joy. The dogs were what kept Tommy living. They were his protection and his only friends. They were his life, and he loved it that way. (Here he is pictured at age 22 with his mom, Cathy, and father, Owen.).