Infested

“Yes, hello? I have a pest problem. No, I haven't ever called you before. I run a clean house. Yes, it's urgent. They're keeping me awake at night, that's why! All that grunting and slamming around; it's enough to drive me batty. And the pantry is stripped clean. They even ate the baking soda!” She glared at the sumo wrestler perched on the loveseat. He blushed.

“No, I haven't tried traps,” she said into the phone. “I wouldn't know where to begin.”

The sumo wrestler hung his head. Behind him, the rest of his heya did likewise.