Carmen Allen stares out the climbing gym window, casting her forlorn gaze across Alder Street as she relives the tragic moment. She fiddles anxiously with a carabiner.

As Allen recalls, it was 3:45 p.m. on Sunday when she left her house, named The Carrot Crevice, for a jog. Dressed in running sandals and full-body spandex, Allen made her way down Alder.

She had forgotten to eat her typical pre-jog snack of broccoli and radishes topped with grated kale and human tears before leaving and could feel herself becoming ravenous.

“I was already preparing mentally to eat the shit out of some raw veggies when I got home,” says Allen. “Drool was pooling in my mouth and cascading down my chin as I ran.”

The climbing gym goes quiet as sympathetic vegans listen in on Allen’s horror story. Allen sobs and stammers as she relives her living nightmare.

“I- I- I opened my mouth to spit out the excess drool and- and- and, oh GOD!” says Allen. “And I swallowed a gnat.”

Screams echo around the gym, and multiple climbers fall from the wall in anguish.

“And the worst part is…it tasted fantastic” says Allen, as a riot engulfs the gym.