Karma, as they say, is a bitch. I am of course, being slightly ingenuine, since I don’t believe in karma. I should start over…
Payback, as they say, is a bitch. Last night, right around 11pm, I found my wife in a sort of panic. She was distraught over the fact that there was a fly in our bedroom. Being highly agitated by bugs in general, she was unable to sleep because it kept “buzzing around in my face” or so she claimed. So, being the strong, brave, cold blooded hunter that I am, I began chasing the aforementioned fly around, swatting at it with a manila folder. I can only imagine what I looked like… It’s one of the many times I wish that our humble abode was wired up with cameras like that show big brother.
Regrettably, I was unsuccessful. I poked fun at my wife a bit, and even went as far as to blame her for the invasion of the flies in the first place, which I attributed to her leaving a chicken carcass in the kitchen garbage, which, I should add, smelled completely horrendous. Well, my wife somehow fell asleep, regardless of our little pest problem, and I as well.
Having very little concern about the occasional house fly, I found this whole incident somewhat amusing, and went through the familiar motions of waking up, and coming into work this morning for my Saturday shift. It was around 11am that the carnage ensued…
While doing some tedious typing at my desk, I detected some slight movement out of the corner of my eye. Spending many hours alone on nights and weekends inside a 250,000 square foot building makes the presence of anybody, or anything quite alarming. When I picked my eyes up to see what I was up against, I nearly lost my shitty 3 dollar Dunkin Donuts breakfast sandwich value meal. Staring back at me was one of the leanest, meanest little creepy crawlers I had ever seen. This little sumbitch Measured in at nearly 2 inches long, with a slender, needle thin body and big, sprawling antennae. (by the way, whoever decided that the plural form of certain words should not involve the letter “S” should be shot. I just argued with spell check for a full 10 seconds before realizing that I am not quite as literate as I thought.)
Bugs usually do not freak me out so badly, but the violation of thinking you’re by yourself, and then finding this huge fucking monster glancing at you knowingly, is probably what did the trick. At that point, I had a dilemma on my hands. At home, I could easily justify killing the big creep, under the pretense of saving my wife from the terror it would cause. But I had a moral dilemma on my hands. I really didn’t hate the little sucker bad enough to squish him, so I did what any self respecting blogger would, and whipped out my trusty camera/phone/computer/everything all in one little pint sized electronic package. Unfortunately, the video and photos I shot were of a sub par quality, and may or may not end up attached to this post.
In the end, I let the little bastard live, and spent the rest of the day itching, and scanning the walls, floors and ceilings, for fear that he may stage an attack at any moment. I even have a lingering suspicion that he may have hitch-hiked on me secretly and made his way into my car, or, god forbid, my home. At least if that were the case, I could justify giving him the old rolled up newspaper treatment.
I’ve walked away from this experience with some new insight. To my wife, a spider or other small insect is terrifying, and to me that may seem silly. But if Steve Irwin, the crocodile hunter (god rest his soul) had seen me bobbing and weaving to avoid this large insect like a little bitch, he probably would have laughed his ass off. So from here on out, if my wife requests that I kill a bug, I will try my best to do so without making fun of her too badly.