A Flickering Intruder

A sudden green glint stirred in the dim corner by the television console. I dropped soundlessly from the low stool to the rug, lowering my head to assess the motion. A robotic toy beetle was skittering toward me on six buzzing legs, erratic and uninvited. It halted two paces away, whirring sharply. I held its mechanical glare, refusing to yield ground. When it lurched forward once more, I struck—snapping my beak down firmly against its hard plastic shell until the gears choked to a dead stop. Respect was promptly restored to the room.