The day started out fine enough. I awoke a bit hungover but blissfully unaware of the terror that lurked irrevocably around the metaphorical corner of my day. Still couched in the sleepy ignorance of the as-yet-untainted morning, I caught an F train and went back to my apartment. From there I puttered around for a bit (being lazily unemployed, I do quite a bit of puttering), perhaps whistling a few bars of one jaunty tune or another, still with no ominous feelings for what was to come. Then it happened: like the idiot who opened Pandora’s box, I moved my dresser and just like that my nightmare scuttled – literally – into reality.
It was a centipede of vile and epic proportions. It had a plethora of all too vivid sinewy, long legs and these absolutely disgusting weird feeler-antennae things emerging on both ends of its grotesquely lengthy body, giving the impression that it had two heads. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I googled “disgusting insect with long legs” and it came right up because I guess I’m not the only one who has been stirred into a tizzy by these little monsters. Someone under the alias of 3verlasting Hero even said in an off-topic video game forum that the centipede is one of the the two "scariest loking bug/animal[s] in the world" and I couldn't agree more. I took this picture amidst my freakout:
It was a fast little sucker too and so entrancing in its abhorrent disgustingness as it crawled out from behind the dresser that for a full 20 or so minutes I just stared at it not knowing what to do. Then rational thought finally intruded upon my still hypnotized mind. I decided it had to be either taken outside or killed. I tried to get a cup and piece of paper to trap it, but the thought of getting close enough to trap it was way to scary so I quickly abandoned that idea. Then I picked up a book and thought of squashing it, but – though I stood poised with book in hand for many a minute – I could not bring myself to do it. My reasons were two-fold: I really didn’t want to imagine the icky squishing sensation that would occur were I to fling the book at the mischievous devil, and additionally, I was so mesmerized by its profound, multi-legged ugliness that I halfway respected it.
So I did the third best thing, which was call my parents to ask them what to do in my time of crisis. Let me tell you now, they were entirely unsympathetic and I hope they read this. They told me I was being silly and my dad mocked me with his oft-invoked, shaming saying: “And you still think you’d be a good contestant on Survivor? You wouldn’t last a day out there!” He then chided me for waking him up so early in the morning (3 hours earlier California time) and hung up on me.
Somewhere during their onslaught of disgust at my wimpiness, the creature in question disappeared. One second it was on the ceiling, the next it was gone without a trace – it could have been anywhere! Driven near insane by the paranoid sensation that it was everywhere on my body all at once, I ran into my roommate’s room and hid there debating what to do. I couldn’t call one of my chivalrous, brave friends asking them to rescue me because most of them were at work, so I called my fellow unemployed friend Zander and asked him to talk me down from my highly distressed state. He was a total pro and was much more understanding than the rents, let me say. Finally we decided that the best course of action was a defensive one: escape! It was clear that – like Harry and Voldemort – neither the insect nor I could exist while the other survived. So I threw on a random assortment of clothes and ran from the house and was gone all day. I have only just returned now, and I’m still shaking in my mini-boots. I’m sure he/she is lurking in my bedding or in one of my drawers just waiting to send me into another state of apoplectic terror. Centipede be warned, you are messing with someone who next time may actually work up the courage to throw a book at you, or at least get someone more brave to do it for her. Either way, its war.
No comments:
Post a Comment