He found the first tooth sitting on his porch one chilly October morning. It was a sharp little thing about the size of his pinky nail.
The next day he found two more beneath the oak tree outside his window, yellow against fallen red leaves.
By the end of the week, teeth covered the yard. They carpeted the ground like fallen seeds and crunched under his boots. He heard the chitter of squirrels and looked up. They crowded the bare branches, staring at him with red eyes, their new fangs bared.
They leaped before he had the chance to scream.

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