Bugs, Death and Revenge: A True Story

As you probably already know, I have a rather tenuous relationship with Nature. Therefore, I avoid being out in it as much as possible. But it just can't be avoided. After all, I do have to leave the house. Recently I had to take Katie to the doctor because she was sick with some kind of plague (that she promptly shared with me, but that's a story for another day), and when I pulled into our driveway and parked the car, Katie opened the door and said, "Uh, Mom? WHAT IS THAT???"

She pointed to what I can only describe as some kind of prehsitoric-looking insect that was roughly the size of my face. Okay, maybe not that big. But it was at least as big as my pinky finger. And wearing armor. No, I'm not making it up. It looked like a bug-shaped stegosaurus. Only evil. And it was in my car, on the door handle. We had been driving around with that Evil Death-Bug for God only knows how long. And Katie almost touched it.

I should point out that Katie is an animal-loving, tree-hugging, I-don't-wear-leather-or-eat-anything-with-a-face vegetarian. She thinks things like scorpions and tarantulas are "cute." She once started crying when watching an episode of Dirty Jobs because they were scraping barnacles off a ship and she was convinced they felt pain and they were being hurt. I'm explaining this so you will understand the full extent of the evilness of this bug. Even Katie thought it was bad.

Okay, I admit, I may be underplaying the bug a bit...

This is what it looked like:

So after immediately vacating our vehicle (Katie climbed over the stick shift of the car and scrambled out the driver's side, she was so afraid to be near Evil Death-Bug), we stood outside on the driveway shrieking "Omg, what do we DO?!" for a good 2 minutes while we stared at the door and watched Death-Bug crawl around. I may have started crying at some point. Then, suddenly, Evil Death-Bug lost its grip on the car door - I'm sure one of its venomous (YES, IT IS. I Googled it*) Claw Legs of Death slipped - and fell to the ground, right behind the wheel of the car.

I looked at Katie and said, "I'm sorry, I know you like animals and all, but I'm running this thing over -" and before I could finish my sentence, Katie said, "Kill it, Mommy! KILL IT!! It's EVIL!" So I hopped in the car and ran it over. And it made a huge popping & crunching noise. Do you understand what I'm saying? That Evil Death-Bug was so big, and armor-plated that it crunched when I killed it! Crunched like the way a walnut would crunch if you ran it over with your car. CRUNCHED!!!

But at least it was dead. We ran inside and locked the door (just in case it wasn't really dead and decided to come after us), and when Harry came home, I made him go out and check to make sure Evil Death-Bug was really dead and hadn't just jumped up and walked off. He assured me it was dead. Eventually I forgot about our near death experience and went on with my life.

Until yesterday. I was having a perfectly pleasant, bug-free day. I went out to get the mail, and when I reached the door to the house, THIS is what I saw on our door jamb.

Staring at me. Plotting my doom. I know what it was thinking. You killed my brother. Now I've come for you. And your little girl, too.

Thankfully all my years of martial arts training kicked in and I immediately started screaming. Harry opened the door to find out why I was freaking out just before Death Bug jumped on my face and tried to inject me with its death poison. In a heroic burst of strength, and with no regard for his own safety, Harry seized Death Bug and removed it for me.

Thus saving my life. Again. He often saves me from spiders, ants, and in one case, a steroid-injected fly. But this time, he saved my life from that horrible Death Bug that was clearly out for revenge. Although I doubt this is the last we'll see of those bugs. I think we may have to move. They have a witness protection program for this kind of thing, right?



*Google "Wheel bug" and tell me that's not a Death Bug. The other name for it? Assasin Bug. ASSASIN! And it "injects salivary fluids that dissolve soft tissue..." in other words - DEATH BUG!!

Fortunately/Unfortunately: A Tale of Misfortune, Paranoia and Stupidity

Once upon a time, there was a woman who suffered from paranoia and fear that one day she would be murdered in her sleep. She has, on several occasions, awakened her husband from a sound sleep just to check the locks on the doors, convinced that one was left open, thereby allowing murderers, rapists and psychopaths (or - her worst fear - a combination of all three) easy access to their home to inflict unspeakable amounts of violence and mayhem. However, when her husband is unavailable for door-checking, she makes certain to check, double & triple check the locks herself. She also goes through this same ritual with her stove, because what good is it to lock all the doors to keep the psychopaths out only to burn to death in your own home because you forgot to turn off the stove or oven, and maybe there was a piece of paper or something that somehow got stuck on the stove or in the oven and then it catches fire, which then catches fire to the oven mitt you accidentally left out, which then catches fire to the wooden spoons (and let's face it, they might as well be kindling!!) and the next thing you know you've become your own personal deep fried wonton? It could happen, people. It could happen!

*Ahem* Anyway...

Recently, she found a job that requires her to commute long distances (160+ miles round trip), but fortunately she was able to work out a plan with her in-laws where upon she could stay at their house a few nights a week in an effort to save gas money and extra wear & tear to her vehicle. This worked out nicely because they no longer lived in the house and had put it up for sale. By staying in the vacant house, her in-laws had someone who could keep an eye on things and make it look as if it was still occupied. And of course (especially because she was All Alone in the house), whenever she stayed there, she was sure to lock all the doors, including the one that opened from the garage into the house, despite the fact that one can't actually enter the garage once the garage doors have been shut, thereby negating the need to lock the door into the home but you just never know.

One day her father in-law kindly asked her to check their basement for water damage, as it had stormed the night before. She agreed, and upon arrival at the home, proceeded to bring all her belongings (a rather hefty skate bag, her overnight bag & her giant purse) into the house, where she (of course) promptly locked the aforementioned garage door. After having checked to make sure the other doors & windows in the home were securely locked (she didn’t want someone to sneak in & murder her while she was in the basement, because you can get murdered during pre-dusk hours too, you know), she went down to the basement to see that, fortunately, no water damage had been done. What a relief! Her father in law would be so happy! She went to send him a text with the good news, only to discover that unfortunately her phone battery had died. So she plugged her phone in to charge it and left it on the nightstand next to her bed (so it would have enough charge to dial 911 if that was needed at some point during the night - always prepared, that one!), as she did nearly every night she stayed there.

Then she remembered that he also wanted her to check the gutter by the basement to make sure it wasn’t clogged up with leaves. Fortunately, the door to get outside was right next to the gutter so she slipped outside, remembering to close the door behind her (there were bugs flying about, and it would be just as traumatic for her to awaken with bugs crawling/flying on her as it would to be murdered. Yes, she knows she’s completely crazy), when she heard an ever so faint “click” that turned out to be the automatic locking mechanism to the door. Unfortunately, she had no key to the home in order to get herself back inside - she always used the remote key pad on the side of the garage to get into the house. More unfortunately, ALL her things were in the house, including her cell phone (which was dead anyway, so that really didn't help, but the idea of her phone being in the house and her current position of being out of the house was making her panic) and any kind of implement she could have used to maybe pick the lock to the garage door, because she could get into the garage, just not the house once she was in the garage.

However, wanting to complete her requested task, she quickly checked the gutter (fortunately leaf-free because she really didn’t like the idea of having to dig out leaves in all that muddy guck), and then walked round & round the house, checking all the windows and doors in case one may have been inadvertently left open but they were (of course) securely locked. She was nothing if not thorough in her quest for safety.

Eventually she noticed the little basement window on the side of the house that was surrounded by dirt (okay, a flower bed, but it was still dirty and gross. Did I mention her great dislike for Nature?), and covered in cobwebs, spiders and other unidentifiable yuckiness. She also noticed the window lock was up.

She knew what she had to do. So she squatted down to the window and tried to pull the window up. Nothing. She cursed. She tried again to pull the window up, nearly giving herself a hernia in the process. Nothing. She cursed some more. She took her shoes off and threw them. Obviously the shoes were not allowing her to get a firm stance in the dirt. Pulled some more. Still nothing. In fit of anger, she shoved the edge of the window while profanity poured out of her mouth faster than a runaway train. Miraculously it opened. Just a smidge. Because the window in question was not the kind of window that pulled up or pushed down to open and close. It was the kind one pushed in or out. Had she bothered to really look, she’d have noticed that a lot sooner, and before her feet were covered in dirt.

So she shimmied and squirmed her way through the window, when she realized that it was possible her sizeable badonkadonk wasn’t going to make the trip. Visions of Winnie the Pooh came to mind and she thought how no one at work would believe she wasn’t able to make it in the next day because she managed to get herself stuck in a window. Fortunately, her ability to measure accurately is just as faulty as her observational skills, so she was able to get through (what turned out to be) the bathroom window and into the house, where she cleaned up the dirty footprints on the bathroom sink (fortunately for her, the window was directly over it because falling onto the tiled floor in a heap wasn’t a fun thought) and closed the window all the way, but didn’t lock it. After all, she figured, if a murderer is going to go through all the trouble of getting dirty and squeezing through a tiny basement window just to slit her throat in her sleep, then he earned it.

And the next time her father in-law asks her to check the gutters for leaves, she's going to tell him to check his g-damned gutters himself.



The End