The Minuscule Map A Short Story by John Doe John Cox had always loved idyllic Paris with its ill, innocent igloos. It was a place where he felt fuzzy. He was a cute, hopeful, squash drinker with sloppy legs and fat eyebrows. His friends saw him as a moaning, melodic muppet. Once, he had even helped a yellow old man recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was.
