p style="text-align: left;"br /Smash the naysayersbr /br / It was a warm summer afternoon if I recall correctly. I was wasting my time on my computer and speaking with a friend on my phone, when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an anomaly. It was a curious sight, as cockroaches are fairly rare in my household. I like to think I keep my house reasonably well groomed of stray foodstuffs and moldy clothing. It must be assumed by me that on this night, something was off. It was crawling on the wall above the dresser in front of my brother's room, peculiarly slow, almost meticulously. Luckily, my father of seemingly unending wealth had recently purchased me a dagger of reasonably high mass and very high quality. At this point, I had no inkling that anything was truly of ill nature, so I believed the extermination of this pest a simple ordeal. I picked up the large dagger, walked over to the creature, and smashed it with the weighted pommel of the dagger. A stain on the wall, perhaps, but the overall structural integrity of the drywall had not been compromised, not even minor denting. I had thought nothing more of the situation and returned to my recreation on the computer, as well as telling the friend of my recent heroic deed of destroying the insect. Nothing seemed even the least bit odd or dreadful for the next two or so minutes, but the moment the next beast came into view, something inside of me, nay, inside of my very soul was aware that evil was afoot in my home, if not in every crack and crevice. I brandished the dagger that had been very effective in previous destruction of threat, and also equipped a sidearm of sorts - the pressurized atomizing can of air freshening and cockroach choking Febreeze I had always kept next to my desk after previous incidents involving a certain Mexican themed fast food chain. The beast looked at me. Even through its small, insect eyes, I could see that it was peering into my soul with nothing to give of its own, save for hate and malice directed toward my very being. It, however malicious its intents were, remained an insect. A fragile and insignificant insect, relative to my human frame. It was soon reduced to another stain on the wall after a quick, disabling spray with my sidearm and a deft blow with the pommel of my main weapon. At that point, even my surface consciousness was aware that something, something evil was at hand. The electric lighting that had been illuminating my dim afternoon became dim themselves. Slowly at first, then speeding in their dimming. Unconsciously, I dropped my sidearm, but through will, I kept the dagger in my right hand. Almost instinctively, as if I was under a charm, I walked toward the center of the room. At this point, I was surrounded by choking darkness. One source of light provided a beacon for my body and mind. A cockroach, small, relative to even other cockroaches. Like a moth to a flame, my body and mind was focused on only one thing - the most peculiar bug I had ever seen. Something had forcefully removed me from my trance, and, in an instant, the walls begun to grow around me. The room became much larger, much more voluminous. The light dimmed around me. The air grew to a /I had fallen into its / Though the creative and artfully minded side inside of me had dreaded the decision to install shag carpeting on the floors of my upstairs common room, but not as much as the rational side of my mind did at that point. At my reduced stature, the shag carpeting made for a dense jungle of twisting fibers. Massive pillars erupted from the ground turning to a common direction. Darkness surrounded me. Small, wicked things, which I can only rationalize now as dust mites darted past and around me. I was in a hostile and alien world. br / In a reasonably short period of time, I had become accustomed to my surroundings. I quickly learned that my dagger proved effective in defending myself against the dust mites, which was an extremely necessary function, as they were, relative to my size, the size of large housecats. Further experimentation let me come to the knowledge that said dust mites, as well as some stray fungus and algae made a tolerable food source once cooked. Cooking was a strange affair. The fires I could manage to create from striking the shells of the dust mites against the steel of my dagger to spark piles of loose fibers lasted painfully short amounts of time, and did almost nothing to drive away the darkness of the seemingly permanent twilight surrounding me. Though it was a painfully tedious affair, I did manage to cook the food which kept me fairly well nourished. Water was difficult to obtain, but I managed by drinking the cytoplasmic fluid from clumps of algae, and, in a pinch, the fluid from amoebas. Both were only marginably tolerable to my palate, but they left my thirst quenched. The dust mites had quickly learned that I was not to be trifled with, and would usually scurry away at my approach. They were slow, so that did not prove an issue when I seeked nourishment. Pursuit was simple. Though the creatures had come to fear me, I myself still feared sleeping in the open, and had spent the better part of two days awake. My drowsiness took over my body and mind, and I had to find a safe place to sleep. I managed to carve a small compartment into the wall of one of the strands of carpet with my dagger. I could cover the opening with the fibers, and make my sleep at least seem / I had figured my means of survival in this alien realm, but survival was not my one goal. I had tasks I needed to do. I had to return to the normal world. I had not a clue as to how to do this, so I reasoned that the best course of action was to begin walking in one direction, and continue on that path until an article of interest came to my attention. Though I could not accurately judge time due to the perpetual twilight, my best assumption for the time that had passed would be approximately three days. Three days before I had heard, or, more accurately, felt the creature. It stood a towering twenty feet tall, and shook the ground in its wake. The cockroach had been small in my world, but it loomed over this world like a god, and I stood as insignificant as it had to / I felt a most peculiar form of primitive rage wash over my mind and body. A tingling on my skin, sweaty palms, and the infamous butterflies in my stomach afflicted me. I was absorbed by fear. The sweating of my palms brought them to a foremost thought in my mind. My palms that were holding my dagger. The palms that were holding my / The tingling gave way to heat. The sweat gave way to fists. The butterflies gave way to wasps. The fear gave way to courage. My walk gave way to my run. The quiet gave way to my battle / It was instinct at that point. Aim for the head with the pommel. The cockroach seemed to shrink at my presence. So did everything else. I had usurped the unrightful god's throne. My pommel seemed to come down not only through the air, but through reality itself. I grew. The light brightened. The sounds returned. I saw the fear in its / The fear died with it as my pommel made contact with its outer shell. Its oppressive mass and force reduced the god to a mere pile of mush to stain my carpet, and I had returned to my original size./p
p style="text-align: left;"I am king in this house. I will smash the naysayers./p