If you dislike tales of murder, insanity, or bugs, I beg you not to read this tragedy.
Today, after arriving home from having enjoyed an afternoon/evening of egg decorating, dinner, game-playing, and story-sharing with friends, I entered my apartment and innocently began to prepare for bed. As I was going about my business, I kept hearing a strange buzzing. Finally, I looked over near one of my lights and saw what at first I thought was an enormous bee. It wasn’t; I think it was just a ridiculous moth, but it buzzed around my head a few times, producing some pathetic screams from me, and then settled on the light fixture. Thus began the nearly two-hour saga of Andrle vs. Devil Bug, Insect from Hell.
I turned my back to it for but a wee moment to sit on my couch, and then the buzzing stopped. Curious, I checked on it. The bug was not in the fixture. It wasn’t anywhere I could see. I worried it had landed on me, but then finally wondered if it was dead. It had been acting rather frantic and I hoped maybe it had been near death. Although I wasn’t pleased that it had chosen my apartment for it’s final destination, I was slightly relieved when I saw (what I thought was) its lifeless body on the shelf behind my TV. Not having the energy to take care of it at that moment, I decided to handle it in the morning.
I got into bed, figuring I’d check some emails and work on my screenplay (for Script Frenzy!) for a little bit while settling in. I turned off the other lights in the apartment, got under covers, and started to type. Since I was playing music, I didn’t immediately notice when, roughly thirty minutes later, the beastly bug began buzzing again – this time right near my head. I screamed what probably sounded like bloody murder, practically shoved my dog off the bed (he had unintentionally trapped me under the covers, keeping me next to the bug of doom), and ran to turn on the bedroom overhead light. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The Evil Moth-ish Bug (EMB) (Devil Bug, et al, sounded too extreme) flew quite quickly up to the new source of light, making sure to come teasingly close to my face a few times en route.
Once it had settled, I sat in bed trying to figure out how to get rid of the thing. I guessed if I left a light on in the other room, eventually it would lure the EMB away from where I wanted to be sleeping. But what would keep it from returning to attack me in my sleep? So I left the bedroom, turned off those lights, and provided a tempting source of light in the living room. After ten minutes, it still hadn’t moved. I returned to the bedroom and found it was still happily chillin’ there. I turned on the light, poked the light fixture. Very little movement from the EMB. Tapped my finger directly underneath it. No movement from EMB. Twisted the fixture. Zero EMB reaction! I figured maybe I could encase the light in a plastic bag and trap the darn thing that way, but the bag didn’t quite fit well around it while it was secured on the ceiling. So, balancing even more precariously on the far edge of my bed, I unscrewed the fixture and slowly tried to place it in the bag. EMB must have been sleeping, because it took it a while to react and it wasn’t until the glass bits pressed it into the plastic that it started to buzz again.
You might think that the worst part is over, but it really just gets more tragic at this point. You’d think my embarrassment at handling this so badly would keep me from blogging about it. For some reason I thought it would be cathartic and good writerly practice to type my account and share it for all to read. I might regret it later.
I seriously spent a good five minutes with a mini wooden baseball bat (my strange gift from a white-elephant gift exchange last Christmas) hitting at a plastic bag that contained the unfortunately broken light fixture (it was more fragile than I anticipated, and when I put down the bag semi-hastily on the kitchen floor, the whole one side of it smashed) and the occasionally angrily-buzzing EMB, every-so-often pulling out another plastic grocery bag from my cabinet to re-bag the contents I’d been smashing – convinced the bug might still be alive and find its way out. Don’t think the insane run-on nature of that last sentence wasn’t on purpose. Perhaps the torture of it left you as distraught as I am now thanks to the EMB.
So, to ensure you get the whole picture: There I was. Mini-baseball bat in hand. Poking and hitting at fixture-glass and bug contained in several plastic grocery bags. This is a new low.
This is also probably a candidate for the most brutal killing of an insect ever. My squeamishness and not wanting to come into contact with the bug resulted in my destroying it in an even more vile way than if I’d just otherwise collected it and squished it. I’m aware that the most humane dealing would have been to lure it outside and let it live (so that it can just find its way back inside my apartment again? No thank you!) but I didn’t really know how to make that happen. In any case, epic, epic failure on my part. I like to think I’m adult and have handled living on my own the last seven months without tragedy, but tonight I feel as though only a skittish child would have reacted the way I did.
My hair brushing against my neck and shoulders and my pajama pants dusting my feet and ankles keep tricking me into thinking they’re the revived and freed bug, back for revenge. I’m exhausted and sleep-deprived. I’m going to bed, this time hopefully to sleep.
x Andrle x