these ain't your grandma's bedbugs
get that thing away
from me get it away from
me oh fuck oh please
i read an article in the paper today about a woman in england who was woken up in the middle of the night by a terrible pain in her toe. that pain was the result of her being bitten by a seven-inch poisonous centipede with bright orange fangs. she believes that this centipede is the same one she threw into her garden after (so she thought, anyhow) killing it over a year ago. it seems to have traveled to england from greece by stowing away in the woman's daughter's luggage.
i'm sorry, perhaps i wasn't speaking clearly. *ahem*
A SEVEN-INCH POISONOUS CENTIPEDE WITH BRIGHT ORANGE FANGS OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD
this is the ultimate monster in my elm street nightmare world. it even possesses a vampiric look-ma-i-can-rise-from-the-dead quality. my hands are sweating at the mere idea. you just, you don't even know. i once stayed awake for two full days because i saw a centipede not nearly so horrific run along the wall and behind a bookshelf in my bedroom. i wanted to die, and then i wanted to move away. after 48 hours i just wanted to sleep, and after i had done that once none of those other things made as much sense anymore, but i was quite serious about them initially. if this mythological insect demon ever made an appearance, the film of my life would cut straight to coma.
it's not like i'm a bug spazz, either. i'm fond of them on the whole. i rescue beetles from my cats and bring them outside, i move vulnerable caterpillars away from the middles of sidewalks. there were spiders around my parents' house that built webs so intense you bounced off of them when you walked into them. i once found one of their cats toying with a spider the size of my hand; when it reared up on its hind legs its stylish coat of bright red hair created a rather enchanting aura effect. i trapped it and threw it out the front door because i feared for the cat, and the next morning when i left for work it charged up the walkway and tried to muscle its way back into the house. i admired its tenacity. i mean, i leapt back inside and slammed the door on it, but i didn't hate it. it's become a favorite bit of our family folklore. that, and the time my dad took the scab that fell off of my cat's ear and put it in his sister's thanksgiving stuffing. who knew it would blend in so well?
i am not afraid of bugs. i'm not. but i would cut off both my legs with a rusty pair of safety scissors to get away from one like that, and that poor british woman, whoever she is, absolutely deserves to be knighted. multiple times.
damn.
from me get it away from
me oh fuck oh please
i read an article in the paper today about a woman in england who was woken up in the middle of the night by a terrible pain in her toe. that pain was the result of her being bitten by a seven-inch poisonous centipede with bright orange fangs. she believes that this centipede is the same one she threw into her garden after (so she thought, anyhow) killing it over a year ago. it seems to have traveled to england from greece by stowing away in the woman's daughter's luggage.
i'm sorry, perhaps i wasn't speaking clearly. *ahem*
A SEVEN-INCH POISONOUS CENTIPEDE WITH BRIGHT ORANGE FANGS OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD
this is the ultimate monster in my elm street nightmare world. it even possesses a vampiric look-ma-i-can-rise-from-the-dead quality. my hands are sweating at the mere idea. you just, you don't even know. i once stayed awake for two full days because i saw a centipede not nearly so horrific run along the wall and behind a bookshelf in my bedroom. i wanted to die, and then i wanted to move away. after 48 hours i just wanted to sleep, and after i had done that once none of those other things made as much sense anymore, but i was quite serious about them initially. if this mythological insect demon ever made an appearance, the film of my life would cut straight to coma.
it's not like i'm a bug spazz, either. i'm fond of them on the whole. i rescue beetles from my cats and bring them outside, i move vulnerable caterpillars away from the middles of sidewalks. there were spiders around my parents' house that built webs so intense you bounced off of them when you walked into them. i once found one of their cats toying with a spider the size of my hand; when it reared up on its hind legs its stylish coat of bright red hair created a rather enchanting aura effect. i trapped it and threw it out the front door because i feared for the cat, and the next morning when i left for work it charged up the walkway and tried to muscle its way back into the house. i admired its tenacity. i mean, i leapt back inside and slammed the door on it, but i didn't hate it. it's become a favorite bit of our family folklore. that, and the time my dad took the scab that fell off of my cat's ear and put it in his sister's thanksgiving stuffing. who knew it would blend in so well?
i am not afraid of bugs. i'm not. but i would cut off both my legs with a rusty pair of safety scissors to get away from one like that, and that poor british woman, whoever she is, absolutely deserves to be knighted. multiple times.
damn.
Labels: confessional, phobias
posted by juniper pearl @ 10:41 PM
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