The Poo Goblin peeks through a crack in the wall, his emerald-green skin catching the faint glow from the hallway. He shuffles nervously, his pointed ears twitching at the slightest sound. He hates being seen by humans, always moving quietly, always hiding, always lurking in the shadows.

The Poo Goblin tiptoes out through his miniature door. His tiny feet make no noise on the carpet as he sniffs the air, searching for the foul scent of unbrushed teeth. Tonight, he must hide his own stench, and only the stinkiest breath will do. With a mischievous grin, he creeps towards the bedrooms, following the invisible trail.

The Poo Goblin listens intently at each door, his nose twitching. He pauses outside a child’s room, wrinkling his nose and whispering, "Ah, this one forgot to brush tonight. Perfect." He pushes the door open just a crack, slipping inside with the grace of a practiced intruder.

The Poo Goblin climbs carefully onto the bed, his green fingers gripping the blanket. He positions himself perfectly, aiming with the precision of someone who has done this many times before. He whispers, "Sorry, but this is the only way," then completes his grim task quickly and quietly. The child stirs but does not wake, swallowing unknowingly as the Goblin slips away, mission accomplished.

The air is filled with the scent of breakfast, but there’s another odor lurking, something sour and strange. The family exchanges puzzled looks as the child opens their mouth to speak, only to be met with wrinkled noses and concerned expressions. The Poo Goblin, safe behind the walls, listens to the confusion and smirks to himself.

The Poo Goblin settles back into his tiny, cluttered nook, surrounded by scraps of paper and odd treasures collected through the years. He mutters to himself, "Maybe next time, someone will remember to brush their teeth," and curls up, ready to wait until the next unsuspecting night.