Till the Tester was in his element. Click. Hover. Scroll. Repeat.
The test website gleamed before him—button animations buttery smooth, dropdowns snappier than a caffeinated squirrel. It was his kingdom, and he, its joyful explorer, sailing the seas of staging environments and sandbox dashboards.

He was halfway through his third lap of "click everything twice just to be sure" when something new appeared. A small, pulsing icon in the corner. Not part of the wireframes. Not part of the test plan. Not supposed to be there.

"A secret feature?" he whispered, eyes gleaming behind his glasses.
It looked like a tiny squid wearing a top hat. Charming, even. Whimsical.
"Must be an Easter egg. I love Easter eggs."

He clicked it.

The screen flickered once. Then again. The air in the room grew dense, like a fog of old seaweed and ancient despair had slipped through the firewall. His mouse froze. The lights dimmed. The cursor bled ink.

And then… the monitor bulged outward.

With a wet slorp, a colossal tentacle slapped out from the screen, followed by an eye that should not exist and a voice that thundered across dimensions, shouting,

"W̨̲͘H̵͈̪̯O̴̠̜͎̠̞ ̴̢͙̟̳̯͖D͇́ͅA͏̹̘R̫̹̝͓͝E̬̳̹͜S͈ ̡T̙̤O͈̘̱̺̬̹ ̟S͡U͎̖M̴M̢͓̲͎͎̖O͓͕̼͈̹͚̝N̻̘͇̜ ̨M̴̦̘̟͎E̘̬̪͉ͅ?͎͝!̮̲͠"

Till, to his credit, only screamed once before the Great Devourer grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him into the monitor. A swirl of code, sanity, and bug reports followed him into the void.

And just like that, he was gone.

All that remained was a faint smell of brine, a post-it note with the word “whoops,” and the test site’s changelog now reading:
+ Added SummonCthulhu() to experimental branch.

Let this be a lesson, dear reader. Poor Till should have stuck to making moodboards of damp, misty swamps and designing worldmap assets with pretty labels. Testing is for the bold. Or at least, the well-insured.

Rest in pieces, Till. May your clicks echo eternally in the deep.