After hanging up his clothes, Tobey started walking along the backyard pathway toward the living room. As he passed the kitchen's fancy glass doors, he glanced inside—empty.
Good. That meant Mom must be in her room.
Or so he thought.
Just as he reached the living room glass door, he froze. Inside, sitting comfortably on the couch, watching TV… was his mother.
[Tobey, whispering to himself]
"Luck is not on my side. How many times have I changed my plan already?"
There's no going back now. The kitchen it is.
"I'd be able to take a container if I had pockets… Guess I'll have to grab the container first—then the frog from the backyard."
Tobey stepped into the kitchen, careful, precise. Like a thief in the night, he moved with silent determination.
Step by step, he approached the counter, his prize—the container—just within reach.
He stretched out his hand… fingertips grazing the plastic… almost… there—
CLACK.
Tobey froze.
A distant sound. Subtle. Unassuming. But to him? It was the sound of DOOM.
He turned his head ever so slightly, eyes wide. The source of the sound?
The door handle. It moved.
[Tobey, in his mind]
"…No. No. No. No. No."
CREEEAK.
The door opened. Light from the living room spilled into the kitchen, casting an ominous shadow as the figure stepped inside.
Her footsteps echoed, slow and deliberate. It was her. The demon. The monster. The bringer of despair.
Mom.
Tobey ducked behind the counter, heart pounding.
[Tobey, internally screaming]
"SHE'S HERE."
He held his breath as she walked past him, heading straight for the fridge. She grabbed a bottle of water, took a few sips, then let out a long sigh.
[Mom, mumbling to herself]
"Why do I feel like something's off today?"
Tobey clenched his fists. His entire existence was what was off today.
Mom stood there for a moment, looking around, as if sensing the chaos that was about to unfold. But finally, she shrugged and walked back out of the kitchen.
[Tobey, exhaling]
"That was way too close…"
BACK TO BUSINESS – THE FROG HUNT CONTINUES
Tobey slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a container, and hurried back outside.
He looked at the frog. Then at the container. Then back at the frog.
[Tobey, sighing]
"Don't want to kill the frog by oxygen deficiency…"
With a groan, he turned back toward the kitchen. He needed to poke holes in the lid. But just as he reached the doorway, he stopped.
The kitchen was right next to the living room… and in the living room… was his mom.
Yeah. No way he was risking that.
He grabbed an ice breaker from outside and took the container to the backyard to poke holes in peace.
Tobey crouched, locking eyes with his target like a predator sizing up its prey.
[Tobey, whispering]
"This is it. The moment of truth."
He lunged.
But instead of a simple hop, the frog twisted midair, its tiny body shifting, stretching, growing. A faint glow surrounded it as its limbs extended, its eyes narrowed, and—
"Damn, kid, you're persistent."
Tobey's eyes widened. He hit the mud face-first.
[Tobey, spitting dirt]
"…You can TALK?!"
The creature—no longer just a frog—landed gracefully a few feet away, crossing its arms like a seasoned warrior.
"Of course I can talk. But let's focus on the real problem here—"
Tobey scrambled up, pointing a shaky finger.
"W-what real problem?!"
"The fact that you are too slow."
The moment the words left its mouth, the creature sprinted. Not hopped—sprinted. On two legs.
Tobey's jaw dropped. His brain barely processed before his instincts kicked in—
"OH HELL NO, GET BACK HERE!"
THE CHASE BEGINS
Tobey tore after the creature, feet slamming against wet grass, hands outstretched. But the thing was fast—way too fast.
[Tobey, panting]
"WHAT—EVEN—ARE YOU?!"
[???, grinning mid-sprint]
"Your worst nightmare."
It twisted, flipping over a puddle, landing effortlessly on all fours before breaking into a sprint again.
Tobey, however, did not flip over the puddle.
SPLASH.
Tobey shot up, now drenched, wiping water from his face.
"…Okay. Now you're just showing off."
"It's not my fault you're built like a potato."
Tobey's eye twitched. This thing was mocking him.
It had to go in the container.
[Tobey, determined]
"You. Are. MINE."
He dived—
And missed.
Again.
[???, chuckling]
"You keep throwing yourself at me like that, and I'm gonna start thinking you like me."
Tobey's face burned.
"SHUT UP!"
The creature dodged left, right, every move flawless. But it made one mistake.
It underestimated just how desperate Tobey was.
He stopped. Stood still.
The creature turned, confused.
"Giving up already?"
Tobey grinned.
"Nope."
And with a sudden, unexpected move, Tobey grabbed the wet sock from his pocket—
—And THREW IT.
The creature's instincts kicked in—it dodged left.
Exactly what Tobey wanted.
With one final lunge, Tobey tackled it mid-air, rolling across the grass.
[???, struggling]
"No—NO! THIS CAN'T BE—"
CLICK.
The container lid snapped shut.
Tobey collapsed backward, arms spread, victorious.
[Tobey, grinning]
"Mission complete."
From inside the container, the creature crossed its arms and huffed.
"You got lucky."
Tobey smirked, tapping the lid.
"Nah. I'm just built different."
…
…
…
A cough. Soft, yet deafening.
Tobey blinked. A deep, primal fear crawled up his spine. Slowly—so painfully slowly—he turned his head.
There she was.
The neighbor's girl.
Standing at her window.
Watching.
Judging.
The heavens wept as rain poured down in mourning. The earth itself wished to swallow him whole. Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled—a requiem for his soul.
She did not speak. She did not react.
She merely stared.
Her gaze, like a god's, pierced through his very existence—stripping away his victories, his triumphs, his delusions.
No longer was he the warrior who had slain the beast.
No longer was he the scientist on the verge of discovery.
No longer was he built different.
He was just a boy.
A boy standing in his underwear.
A boy, drenched in mud.
A boy, clutching a plastic container.
The silence stretched into eternity. The weight of heaven and hell bore down upon him, the cosmos itself rejecting his foolishness.
And then—
She moved.
With the finality of divine judgment, she reached for the curtain.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Inevitable.
With a whisper of fabric, she sealed his fate.
No words. No emotion. Only the abyss of her rejection.
The universe had spoken.
Tobey stood motionless. He could feel it now—the flames of hell licking at his ankles, the cold winds of heaven turning away from him in shame.
His knees nearly buckled. His grip loosened on the container.
Was this what it meant to fall?
He closed his eyes. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried the weight of a fallen god cast from paradise.
[Tobey]
"…Was all of this truly in vain?"
And in that moment—he knew.