Ant decided he was going to become famous at 11:26 in the morning, shirtless in the bathroom mirror, while practicing three different "accidental celebrity" smiles.
The first one made him look constipated.
The second looked like he'd stolen something.
The third, according to Nyla, looked "like a broke man trying to seduce unemployment."
Ant pointed at her reflection in the mirror. "You're a hater."
"I'm accurate," Nyla said, scrolling on her phone. "There's a difference."
He turned sideways, checked his jawline, flexed once, then nodded at himself. Slim build, darker skin, clean face, good hair, good angle. Yeah. The looks were there. The problem, in Ant's mind, was that the world had simply failed to discover him yet.
That was about to change.
He came into the kitchen wearing a fitted black tee, chain out, smelling like too much cologne and bad intentions.
"I'm becoming a content creator," he announced.
Ramon, who was using a fork to scrape burnt demon-cheese off a skillet, didn't even blink. "For money or attention?"
"Both. Respectfully."
Celeste looked up from her tea. "You cannot even commit to folding towels."
"That has nothing to do with my star power."
Vice, sitting in the fruit bowl for no reason, snorted. "You got the work ethic of a decorative pillow."
Ant ignored him. "I already got ideas. Pranks. reactions. lifestyle. supernatural hacks. Grim Borough content. Couple content when I get a girl. Maybe some thirst traps with mysterious captions."
Nyla looked disgusted. "If you post a lip-sync video in this house, I'm telling people you cried during that dog food commercial."
"I was tired."
Milo walked in holding Pebble. "Can I be in the videos?"
"Depends," Ant said. "Can you act normal?"
Milo stared at him for a long, haunting second.
"Okay, never mind."
By one in the afternoon, Ant had turned the living room into a low-budget studio. Ring light stolen from Nyla. Houseplant dragged in from the porch. Ramon's black coat thrown over the couch because Ant said it made the background "look expensive." Vice was stealing grapes off the coffee table. Celeste had already threatened everybody twice.
Ant propped his phone up and hit record.
"What's good, y'all? It's Ant Varela, and today I'm showing you five life hacks that regular broke people are too spiritually limited to understand—"
A shoe flew in from off-screen and hit him in the shoulder.
Nyla's voice came from the hallway. "Stop saying spiritually limited like you're a wizard entrepreneur."
He restarted.
Then restarted again because Vice farted directly into frame.
Then again because Ramon walked behind him shirtless, scratched his stomach, and asked, "Did anybody move my cursed wrench?"
Finally, Ant changed tactics.
"If clean content ain't working," he muttered, "we go chaos."
His new plan was simple: fake a dangerous supernatural moment, save the day on camera, post it, go viral.
Terrible plan. Instant confidence.
He set the phone up in the kitchen, whispered to Vice, and pointed at the toaster.
Vice grinned so hard his tiny demon face looked illegal. "You want me to possess the appliance?"
"Lightly," Ant said. "Not murder-level. Just enough for views."
Thirty seconds later, Ant burst into frame.
"Yo! Oh shit! The toaster wildin'!"
The toaster, now floating three feet above the counter with glowing red eyes, began launching burning bagels like weapons.
Ant tried to look surprised.
He really did.
But then one bagel smacked him in the forehead so hard he stumbled backward into the dish rack, which toppled into Ramon's coffee mug, which shattered on the floor.
Silence.
Then the house changed mood.
The lights flickered. The vents groaned. Somewhere upstairs, a door slammed itself.
Celeste slowly entered the kitchen.
She looked at the broken mug.
Then at the floating demonic toaster.
Then at Ant.
"No," Ant said immediately. "This got bigger than the bit."
The toaster screamed and shot two more bagels across the room. One hit Vice. The other smacked Ramon in the chest just as he entered.
Ramon looked down at the scorched mark on his robe. "Who the fuck attacked breakfast?"
What happened next was not content.
Ramon threw hellfire at the toaster. The toaster dodged. Ant opened a shadow portal to trap it, but accidentally redirected it into the pantry. Milo got excited and released Pebble, who started eating uncooked noodles off the floor. Vice climbed the curtains yelling play-by-play like sports commentary.
Nyla stood in the doorway filming the whole thing, tears in her eyes from laughing.
"Oh my God," she said. "You look so stupid."
Ten minutes later, the toaster was dead, the kitchen smelled like burnt bread and regret, and Celeste had banned Ant from "creating" anything for seventy-two hours.
Ant sat at the table in silence while Nyla uploaded the video anyway.
By dinnertime, it had 2.3 million views.
Unfortunately, the top comment was:
He's fine as hell but dumb as a fucking brick.
Ant stared at his phone.
Then smiled.
"I can work with that."