Ladybug Jacob stared at the crushed remains. He had no idea what the green and yellow bug might have been, and now, thanks to his father's deadly, unerring aim with a rolled-up magazine, he never would. Bodily fluids leaked in greenish streams from the ruined exoskeleton, now so badly crumpled and dented as to be almost unrecognizable. Worst of all, as Jacob drew closer out of a morbid curiosity, he spied the twitching of one of the insects legs and even the base of one of the antennae, which had been snapped at its base.
He felt the vibration as an enormous car engine came to life as his father, having meted out destruction like some wrathful god, drove from the house after his brief visit had caused so much pain and senseless destruction.
"Oh my god," Jacob realized with sickening clarity. "Anyone who sees me will think I am only a tiny bug."
Another twitching leg from the ruined insect caused Jacob to click his mouthparts in distress. "That could be me," he stared as the insect's twitching grew less frequent and focused on the depth of his dilemma. "Dad could have crushed me just as easily as this poor bug."
He had to find the toroid with its weird, spooky powers, or he had to get the fake Jacob to switch their bodies back. Jacob used his wings to fly from the scene of such carnage. He caught a glimmer of a strange, bright light as he flew from the scene, but his determination to put distance between himself and the crushed bug kept him from taking a second look at the source of the glowing light.
His flight took him back toward his home, which loomed like some mystic mountain range over the tangled jungles of the yard. As only the fake Jacob could communicate with him, the unsettled former human teenager decided to seek him out.
He flew to the back door. The structure could have doubled as an ancient gate produced by huge beings to transport space fleets between galaxies, Jacob thought with his inner sci-fi nerd. Unfortunately, whether door or star gate, the structure remained closed to him. He decided to explore the kitchen windows. Mom had been leaving them open during the milder autumn weather. Indeed, he found them lifted from their sills, but then met another forgotten barrier. He might be tiny, but the fine mesh of the screens did their job — preventing access to tiny pests like flies and moths ... and ladybugs ... to the interior of the house. He crawled with his six tiny legs over the vertical mesh surface, trying to discover a small tear that would let him squeeze his rounded body through the barrier.
To his surprise, he found one. He managed to get most of the way inside when he felt one of his tiny legs get tangled in a frayed length of metal mesh. He brought his wings into play to tug himself free. His twisting in the mesh must have caught her attention.
Suddenly, a huge face loomed almost in front of him. So close and so huge, he needed a few seconds for recognition. Mom!
"Mom! It's me! Jacob!" Her son cried in a burst of staccato chittering.
"No, you don't," Mom said. "Can't have all you bugs coming inside the house ahead of cold weather."
Jacob gave a powerful wrench and felt his leg twist free, followed by a shock of pain that nearly blinded him for a moment. Now gripping the mesh with five legs, he stared through agonizing pain at his own wiry limb as it twitched independently of the rest of his body among the mesh network.
He didn't have time to obsess over the loss. Besides, he still had his other five legs. After the agony of the initial detachment, his insect nervous system worked quickly to shut down the pain. Jacob felt more focus, and just in time, as Mom reappeared on the scene.
She held a gleaming tower in one hand. Jacob gazed at the silvery tower and its black-and-red label with a blocky font that formed a message that promised to eliminate household pests.
"No! Mom! Not bug spray!"
The tiny five-legged ladybug took flight...