Boymeat (boymeat) wrote,

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A story about a bug...

OK kids, sit right on down, 'cause Uncle Boymeat is going to share yet another story with you about his ridiculous life. Now, before we go too deep into this, I present to you (da da DA!) THE DISCLAIMER: If you are sensitive to nature's multi-legged googly eyed beings, and would be offended by any accounts of humans bringing bizarre and painful deaths to them (i.e. - all you woo-woo readers out there), well... I'm sorry. Not.

So, Sunday night, I'm having a cigarette on my terrace. I open the terrace door to return back inside the apartment, when I hear this loud *click.* In front of me, on one of the dining room chairs, is the biggest freakin' green bug I have ever seen. It is vaguely grasshopper shaped (still not quite sure if it was a grasshopper or a cicada), about 4 inches long, just sitting there, on my chair.

Mind you, I live on the 11th story of my building, in Brooklyn. Natural environment for the little bugger this was not.

So, I do what any normal former licensed exterminator (bet you didn't know THAT about me) would do... I freaked. Screamed for my Dad, pointed wildly at the large beast that was just chilling on my chair. My mother notices, and decides to harmonize with my screaming. My father screams at everyone to stop screaming, and does what any self-respecting former owner of a pest control company would do - bark orders at everyone else to take care of it, so he didn't have to.

I immediately took charge of the situation. Told my mother to go hold open the terrace door. I figured I could slowly push the chair out onto the terrace, and then hit the chair, forcing the bug to fly away outside, back to the non-indeginious environment that it came from. Well, mom walks to the door, opens it, and the bug flies deeper into the living room. Shit.

Dad barks to get the spray can. OK, here is the part the baffles me still. You would think in a house of two former exterminators, some poison would be around SOMEWHERE. But no, we search and search and search, and turn up with nothing. So, I open up the cabinet underneath the sink, and pull out the first thing I can find. Oven cleaner.

I go back into the living room, to find that somehow my parents have lost sight of this Godzilla-inspired bug. Now, seriously folks, this fucker was huge and bright green. How can you lose that??! I search and search and search, turn up with nothing. We presume it flew out the terrace door during all the commotion, and go back to regular life. I name it George just for fun, and talk about how I'm gonna go chill with George when I went off to bed.

Fast forward to last night. I get home at around 9 PM, my parents are out, my brothers playstation 2 is on in the living room, untouched, along with a half-eaten bag of popcorn. I walk into the house, down the hall, to find my brother on the phone. He quickly hung up the phone when seeing me. I ask who was on the phone. This goes on for a while. He finally admits... George flew out while he was playing his game, he freaked, ran into the back room, and called 911.

Oy. Thankfully, the 911 operator kindly informed my brother that bugs are not exactly 911 material, especially when there is only one of them.

OK, back on the hunt again. I open up the terrace door and a window, turn on all the lights, and look for poison once again. I come up with, yes, you guessed it... oven cleaner. I search and search and search, nothing. Argh. I decide to set up operations at the kitchen table facing the open terrace door, that way I can at least see if George flies out. I got a little hungry, so went for some cereal. And lo and behold, there is George, just hanging out.

I hit the wall near George, thinking he'll fly out the door. Nope. Flew inward. Now I was just pissed off, grabbed the... oven cleaner... and hunted him. To make a long story short, George died in pool of cleansing foam on the kitchen floor - and he was very clean.

And that is my story of a bug.

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