I believe that I have a bug radar. My spidery tingles instantaneously when there is a creepy-crawler hanging around nearby. It works the best with bugs that I dislike deeply such like, oh I don't know, centipedes. Thankfully, the house we live in is not overrun with centipedes. I have only seen one during my whole two-year stint. On the other hand, we have a pretty decent number of silverfishes. A silverfish is not as hideous or scary to look at as it is with centipedes. I mean, it is definitely not pretty either, but I usually have enough gall to just smash the living out of it. If I see a centipede, then you bet that I'm gone. Anyway, I'd find a silverfish here and there. I pick up a tissue, and crush it with my hand. No big deal.
A few nights ago, Stu, and I were lounging in our bed. He was playing a game on his Kindle, and talking on his cell. I was doing a word-search finder puzzle. Wow, reading that made me feel old. Only old people do that, right? Our evening was going rather pleasantly. Suddenly, my spidery sense went off.
Bug alert! My spidery sense blared. I went on the defense, and whipped my head around so fast that I could have given myself a whiplash. No sight of a bug. My eyes went up the ceiling. Boom, baby! A silverfish was luxuriously hanging upside down on the ceiling....right above my head. It was the ugliest, and biggest SOB I have ever seen. Instead of being traditionally silver-ish to cobalt in color, it was black, I kid you not, and it was fattest thing ever. It looked literally like a slug. It grossed me deeply. No way in hell I was going to risk touching it.
I grasped my hand on Stu's forearm, and clutched to him as if I was hanging for my dear life.
"Uh...babe." I said.
Stu was chattering away on his phone.
He laughed, and nodded his head, completely oblivious that I had run out of air to breath, and was possibly dying.
"BABE...." I insisted, and dug my nails into his forearm. That finally got his attention. Stu glanced at me. Without saying a word, I silently pointed my forefinger up the ceiling at the hideous creature above us. It was as if this was taken out of a horror movie scene.
In my mind, silver fish looked very much like this:
In Stu's mind, the bug looked very much like this:
"Are you kidding me? Can't you kill it?" Stu shrugged. I shook my head. Stu put his cell down, and retreated for a moment to retrieve a piece of tissue. I moved to the middle of our bed because A) I had to give Stu a room to stand up, and kill the creature above my head, and B) I didn't want to be underneath the bug when that happened because the worst-case scenario would be it falling directly upon on my head. Stu calmly stepped up on our bed, and reached with a tissue toward the bug.
Problem solved, right?
Yeah, that would be way too easy. The universe hated me. Karma was out to kick my butt. For what? I was not sure.
The bug flew off the ceiling directly to my path. Of course, traitorous Stu had to fled and abandon me by jumping off the ship.
I clasped my hand over my mouth to silence my scream because I did not need to be dying with fear with bug on me with a crying screaming baby in the other room because I had woken him up. I did the quickest roll across the bed, and miraculously landed on my feet like a cat.
For a disbelieving second, I couldn't believe I made it across the bed, and miraculously landed on my feet like a cat. I thought, Damn that was a smooth move I did especially for a klutz! Of course a moment later, the klutz strikes! I had to stumble over the box. The reality hit me at that very instant. I could feel the creature's cool body sliding its way on my neck. I flapped my arms, smashing at my neck, and restrained an urge to holler on top of my lung. My lungs were on the fire. My heart was pounding its way out of my chest. No point in waking up our baby, and potentially causing our neighbors downstairs to think that I was being murdered by my loving husband.
Ashley, I got it. It's dead. Stu signed, and as a proof, he held up a tissue with the dead bug inside.
Where did it go?! I demanded.
It is dead. Look here. Stu assured me. I declined his offer to look at gutted bug, and took his word for it. Of course, I had to ask...
Where did it land? Tentatively, I asked.
Oh it was on your pillow. It may be a bit smeared though. Stu shrugged. I picked up the pillow and swapped his with the soiled bug-guts pillow, and replied that it was his for the night. Stu rolled his eyes. The reality finally sunk in that the bug was dead.
Suddenly, the heavens parted, and the light fell upon me. The wiggly bug sensation on my neck disappeared. My heart was finally slowing down its frantic pounding. I was able to breath once again. Hallelujah!
Well said, Ru Paul, well said.