Two nights ago I was lying in bed leisurly flossing my teeth. Being the oral hygiene freak and "cavity-phobe" that I am, I make sure to get everything out. Even if this means using half of the floss in one sitting.
So, perched on my bed, watching "Six Feet Under", I was deftly getting the goop out from between my Lateral Incisor and Canine, when I heard it.
*Tap* *Tap* Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz *Tap* *Tap* *taptaptaptap* Bzzzzzz....
This is the familiar yet petrifying sound of a bug flying around, hitting my ceiling trying to look for a way to get the eff out before getting squished.
It has to be said that I hate bugs. From ants, to beetles to spiders (big ones) to crickets, bugs scare the shit out of me. And yes, there is a story behind it.
I was about eight. It was super hot out and I was downstairs in our living room. I had just secured the last cherry popsicle. This being a feat in and of itself because my older sister would always snag them before I could, leaving me to suck on Grape or Orange. But not this time! HAR!! I got the last Cherry one. And it was one of those popsicles that had the double sticks. So you could actually break it in half and have two popsicles if you were feeling generous. Which I never was.
So I was downstairs trying to cool off. I was lounging on our love seat, probably watching Gem and the Holograms or The Puffalumps; one hand over the side of the chair, the other holding tightly to my yummy popsicle. It came time to move the wrapper down, so I could have better access to my frosty treat. As I languidly brought my hand up to the wrapper, crawling up my arm was a June Bug the size of a Buick.
I shrieked, flung the bug off and for some strange reason chucked my popsicle across the room. I didn't know what to do! I remained in the chair, in the fetal position until my dad came in.
"What is wrong?!?!!?!?!?!" My dad looked around wildly, surveying the damage: A huge June Bug scuttling along and a cherry red popsicle dripping onto the VHS of Flight of the Navigator (one of my favorite movies!!!).
"DAD! THERE'S A REALLY BIG BUG THAT WAS CRAWLING ON ME!!!"
My dad simply trapped the bug under a cup and brought it outside. I don't know what came of the bug but I'm hoping it's fate involved the underside of my dad's Timberland.
And to this day, I still freeze when there is a bug about. I know it's not going to hurt me, or morph into some sort of 800 pound beast. I just don't know what it is. I see bugs and I think of the time when I was eight and one was weaving it's way up my left arm.
My fear of creepy crawlers is so profound, that two years ago, I made plans to go see my best friend in Baltimore. The ticket was booked, plans were made, happy hours were mapped out. She called me about 3 weeks before I was scheduled to be there and goes "You'll never guess!! This is the year of the Cicada!!!"
"The what?"
"The Cicada!!! They only come up every seventeen years!!!!"
All I could think to myself was, what in the hell is a Cicada and why is she so excited about it?
Long story short, Cicadas are bugs that only emerge every seventeen years. The female lays her eggs and blah blah blah. They are loud and gross looking and I was canceling my trip.
"Jen," I said, "I can't deal with that. I cannot be walking down the street with bugs falling out of the sky."
An image of me holding an umbrella to shield myself as Cicada's showered down on me popped into my head.
As it turned out, I was visiting at the very end of the Cicada season and when I arrived in Baltimore, there was (thankfully) not a Cicada to be found.
So now back to present day, in my room, a strange arthropod buzzing around and floss hanging out of my teeth. I sat there staring, flinching every time it made a dip from crashing into the ceiling. Finally it swooped over near my closet.
Like a Gazelle, I grabbed an old Vogue (the one with Keira Knightley on the cover, so it was OK) and hopped onto my bed. I tracked the bug like a PUMA tracks it's prey. Teetering on the edge of my bed, I swatted at the bug. *DAMN!* MISSED! I tightened my grip on the Vogue: wait for it.....wait for it!!!
**THWAP!!!**
Har! Victory!!! (insert pumping of fists here) I looked down to see the carnage, but, what is this? No bug to be found. I peered up at the ceiling and there, in two halves is the mystery bug, in all of it's exoskeleton, segmented body glory.
Ew.
So now, I have a bug corpse hanging from my ceiling. Added to the list of things that give me the heeby jeebies is the strange crunching sensation that occurs when you smoosh a bug in a napkin, paper towel or tissue. I would rather have a dismembered bug hanging from my ceiling then deal with that. I am simply waiting until it dries up and falls to my carpet where I can vacuum it up with all of the other anonymous things that accumulate on my floor.
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