Customs agent stops me and pulls an apple out of my luggage.

"What is this?" he demands.

"Fruit," I answer innocently. "You must respect it."

He holds it out to a uniformed dog, who growls. Rolling his eyes, he takes out a knife and cuts the fruit open.

Within the fruit is a small, plastic bag.

Within the bag is another, smaller apple.

"Very funny," he spits as he begins cutting into that second apple.

He stops.

A powerful, sweet smell is emanating from everywhere at once.

He looks back at me, but I am no longer there.

Nervously, he cuts into the apple. As this happens, a gigantic steel beam slices through the roof.

He drops the apple in shock, and it splits in half upon hitting the ground. The roof, likewise, is peeled back to reveal me, now a giant holding a big knife.

"How does it feel?" I ask, just as innocently, although my booming voice can no longer convey emotion in a comprehensible manner.

Nervously, he looks down at the apple he dropped. Inside it, there's a small person.

It is him.