 Welcome to Microterrorz. Scary stories for kids, where it's always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills, and spine-tingling spooks. Microterrorz are family-friendly frights for those ages 8 and up. And while our stories are for younger years, we are still talking about things that go bump in the night. And some children may not be able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended. Now, for tonight's Microterrorz. It came from the neighbor's garden by Scott Donnelly. Mom, where's my leftover sub-sandwich? I clamored, rummaging through the fridge like I was already a teenager. I'd been thinking about that sub ever since I'd gotten to school, and now that I was home, I needed it. I needed the three meats, the cheese, the mayo. It was swimming in Italian dressing somewhere in the fridge, but I just couldn't find it. Did dad eat it? I yelled to my mom, who hadn't even responded to my first question. Dad ate it, didn't he? I backed away from the fridge, feeling defeated. Of course my dad ate it. He ate everything without asking. Left over lasagna, tacos, butter. He ate it all. I closed the fridge just as my mom entered the kitchen. Did you say something, sweetie? She asked, setting a plastic bag down on the counter. Never mind, I said. Travis next door just picked these from his garden. Fresh carrots, she said. Perfect timing, too. I'm making beef stew tonight. We'd better eat as much as we can tonight before dad gets to it tomorrow. I muttered sarcastically under my breath. My mom didn't respond. She just opened the bag and shuffled through the carrots to make sure there was enough for the stew. Right then, her cell phone rang in the next room. That's probably your dad now. He should be home from work any minute now. Oh good, I said, keeping the sarcasm up. I better have a snack now then before I miss my opportunity. My mom chuckled as she left the kitchen, but I felt like she didn't even know what she was chuckling about. I heard her answer the phone in the living room, and it sounded like it was indeed my dad. I opened the fridge again, this time accepting the fact that I might have to settle for a pudding or yogurt. I didn't want those, I wanted my sub. Just then I heard a soft rustling behind me, a crinkling of plastic. I turned around and saw the bag of freshly picked carrots from the neighbor, moving across the counter. My eyes went wide. I trailed off. Then the bag rolled over, spilling a dirty carrot or two onto the countertop. I jumped back. Something was in that bag. A rodent of some kind, perhaps? A chipmunk? A mole? Wait, of course. A rabbit. Rabbits liked carrots. They loved them. Somehow a rabbit had slipped into the bag unnoticed and was eating the carrots. It was like a dad version of a rabbit eating everyone else's food. I don't think so, dad. A rabbit. I shouted, smacking my hand down on the bag to stop it and then opening it up. Mom! I shouted, we're about to have a rabbit running around. I stopped talking when I peered into the bag. There was no rabbit, just carrots. Was I going crazy? I know what I saw. I saw. I stopped again when something bizarre happened inside the bag. I saw an eyeball, small like a googly eye. Then another one opened and another. Soon there were five squishy eyes blinking at me all at different times. They were on one of the carrots. A sideways mouth filled with chipped orange teeth opened on it next and then it hissed at me. I lifted my hand from the bag and backed away, not believing what I was seeing. The bag moved again as the carrot, deformed with two orange trunks acting as legs, came scampering out of the bag and onto the counter. It turned one way and then the other, taking in its surroundings. It finally focused on me and hissed again its eyes dipped and then it lunged off the counter. I ducked and it flew directly over me, blasting into my mom just as she was walking back into the kitchen. She screamed as the carrot clung to her dress and quickly climbed up to her face. It hissed at her too and she screamed again, louder. I had to act quickly. I grabbed the closest thing to me, a frying pan and wildly swung at the carrot. I accidentally blasted my mom across the face. She fell to the ground and I panicked. Oh no! Mom! I yelled, dropping the frying pan and kneeling down at my mom's side. The carrot hit the ground too but scurried away into the living room. I helped my mom sit up. She was clearly dazed by the sudden blast. What happened? She said, barely able to speak. It was a carrot, I said, with five eyes and a mouth. What are you talking about? She stammered. In the living room, the radio turned on. Oh my god! I said, it's listening to music! The radio changed channels until a hard rock station blared. It's jamming, I exclaimed. I stood up and barged into the living room. On the shelf was our radio. The carrot stood next to it, rocking out to the song, but turned and phased me when I entered the room. Its eyes dipped and it hissed at me again, launching itself across the entirety of the room. I was able to duck just in time, but once again, it collided with my mom and wrapped itself up in her hair. She screamed and started running around the living room in circles as the rock music continued to jam. What kind of freak vegetables was Travis growing next door? And why would he even consider giving us one of them? Next time he needed his lawnmower or yard rate, he had another thing coming. Stop droppin' roll, mom! I shouted. She heard me and dropped to the ground and rolled around until she hit the wall. The carrot dislodged from her hair and scampered back into the kitchen. I chased it down, but lost track of it. I scoured the floor, the counters, the top of the fridge. Nothing. I opened a drawer and pulled out a meat cleaver, the perfect carrot shopping tool. I heard the front door open and my dad walked in. Oh, my favorite song! I heard him say. Honey, why are you on the floor? Why is your hair all messed up? Dad, watch out! There's a carrot loose! I yelled at him. He came into the kitchen and sat his work bag down on the counter. Carrot? He asked. What are you talking about? It has eyes! I screamed. Five of them! My dad squinted. Are you talking about a potato? Potatoes have eyes, son. Not carrots. Remember, we've been through this before. The carrot beamed out from the fruit basket on the counter and straightened my dad's face. Everything fell into slow motion. No! He screamed. Instinctively, I swung the meat cleaver through the air and seamlessly hit my target. The blade sliced down through the carrot, splitting it in half. It hit the floor. Both sides of it went limp. I took a deep breath before getting on my knees and chopping the rest of it up until it was nothing but a fine orange dust. My dad stood in shock. My mom remained sprawled out on the floor, her hair a wreck. And me? I caught my breath while still on my knees with the meat cleaver in my hand. I wasn't sure if it was a freak of nature, grown on cursed grounds, bad fertilizer, or just Travis conducting bizarre experiments to create super creepy foods. One thing was for sure. I would never eat anything else that ever came out of my neighbor's garden. I looked up to make sure my dad was okay. And that's when my worst fear had been realized. My dad had found my leftover sub-sandwich from somewhere in the fridge and was already sinking his teeth down into his first bite. Thank you for listening to Mike Rothera's. Join us each Saturday for another scary story. For more fun, visit our website at microtarrows.com where we will also have spooky games you can print out and play, like Wicked Word Searches, Mysterious Mises, and more. Microtarrows.com is also where you can find us on your favorite social media and even send in your own scary story for us to tell. Plus, you'll learn more about our author, Scott Donnelly, who has other horrors for both young and old. I hope you'll join me again soon. From Microtarrows, scary stories for kids. If you want to listen to the podcast, you can find it at WeirdDarkness.com.