[img]396|left|Alex Campbell||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — Here’s a story about an encounter I once had with a bug. My cat Shelby was looking up at the ceiling, something she never does. She prefers to keep her center of gravity and her eyes close to the floor. Things with six legs do not interest her. Things that fly are slightly more interesting.
Up there on the wall, close to the ceiling, was a ghastly creature. It was black, long and skinny, with a pointed end and wings that made a horrible buzzing sound. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew what it wasn’t. It wasn’t a fly, a mosquito or a bat. It flew close to the wall so I could whack it easily if I was brave enough to. After determining that my fearless landlord wasn’t home (I went onto the front porch outside and saw that his living room light wasn’t on), I knew I had to take matters into my own hands.
I grabbed a broom and whacked at the bug. No dice. It continued to fly and buzz. It flew over to my loft bed, buzzing annoyingly around my pillow. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep unless that thing was dead. I tried to hit it, but my positioning was awkward and it got away easily. It landed on the dresser near the TV. I hit it with the broom, and it looked like it was down for the count. Just to be sure, I crept up close to it, just like they do in the horror movies. And just like in the horror movies, it jumped up, buzzing. I screamed and jumped back. It dropped down somewhere where I couldn’t see it. This thing would just not die!
A Catty Non-Remark
I asked Shelby, “Did it die, or just disappear?” She didn’t know and didn’t care; she was only interested in avoiding the broom. I picked up things on the floor gingerly to see if I could find a carcass. I flicked and jumped, flicked and jumped. I could not find it. I couldn’t go to bed knowing that it might buzz again, so I looked for about thirty minutes until I deduced that it had finally met its maker. I slept with one eye open.
In the morning I got up and did my Sunday morning thing: had breakfast, read the paper, did a load of laundry. When I came back inside from the laundromat, there was that stinking bug, alive and kicking, sitting right on my dining room table. I swear I saw it stick two legs in its ears, stick its tongue out, and give me a raspberry.
I took the movie section of the newspaper, rolled it up, and smacked it with the faces of Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx. It landed on the floor and I blew on it. Dang if it didn’t kick a leg back at me! I hit it again and this time a wing came off, so I knew it was really dead. I informed Shelby of my triumph; I think she yawned.
I haven’t seen a bug like that before or since that day, and I’m mighty glad. Just in case, I always have newspaper around, preferably the movie section. Hot celebrities can kill bugs better than I can.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at campbellalexandra@hotmail.com
