I came home ready to relax, but something felt... off. There was this weird, tiny noise—faint and high-pitched, almost like squeaking, but more desperate. I couldn’t place it. So I start looking around, confused, trying to figure out what the hell it is. That’s when I see it. An entire village of tiny little pests has made its way into my house—running around like ants, shrieking in panic. I’m disgusted. I don’t allow infestations in my space. So I do what anyone would do when they see something disgusting in their home: I squish it. I step on them one after another in my high heels, their pathetic screams rising just before I silence them for good. You can practically feel their tiny bodies pop beneath me. And just when I think the floor’s clean, I spot one last survivor. A straggler. And instead of stepping on him, I do something different. I eat him. Swallowed whole in one greedy gulp. He should’ve known better than to come into my home uninvited. This is what happens when you're sm

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