Scott Porter was in the middle of a wonderful wet dream — involving a Ferrari, his boss, a childhood crush and a large tub of oyster sauce — before his unconscious fun suddenly came to an end and he woke up covered in mosquito bites.

The young marketing executive, who had been a creature-loving vegan since he was a teenager (much to the disgust of his meat-obsessed friends), swore loudly, waking a baby in the apartment above, and switched on his lamp to find “the fucking fucker.”

“Where are you you prick?” he whispered to himself, as murderous rage flooded through him. After a minute, he saw the mosquito flying up toward the ceiling; he leapt and tried to crush it before it could escape his reach.

“I will slaughter you and your entire race!” he screamed, staring at the small pinprick of insect and blood as it whined its way around his ceiling.

A couple of minutes later, the mosquito made the fatal mistake of moving towards the bedside lamp that Mr Porter had switched on. Mr Porter wasted no time in crushing it into oblivion.

Mr Porter began to laugh, then, and didn’t stop until his entire apartment block was awake; he laughed as he washed the blood and body of the mosquito off his hands; he laughed as he fell once more to sleep, feeling more satisfied than he had in years.

Originally published on Medium.