I Hate Me, Part 130,294
Carrie hates bugs, all bugs. Even the helpful kind, like the Dishwasher Spider, or the Mop & Glow Silverfish and if I am home it’s my job to kill them. I doesn’t matter how, smooshing them, swatting them, stabbing them with toothpicks that look like swords, drowning them in Windex. Pretty much whatever is at hand, as long as it’s done quickly. So a few nights ago I was watching the Mets (spoiler alert: they lost) and I heard the clarion call of bug discovery. The invader was a centipede. I don’t think they do much except creep people out and write the occasional bad check but I had to kill it. I saw where it was and asked Carrie to hand me a magazine or something to smoosh it with. She handed me a comic book (specifically, Bulletproof Coffin:Disinterred #6) and my full comic book nerd-itude came out
-That’s a comic!
+I know it’s a comic, KILL THE CENTIPEDE!
-I collect those
+You save ALL of them?
-Yes! that’s what collecting means.
+Killing one bug won’t ruin it.
-I don’t want bug guts on it, eccch.
+Just kill it
-How about that Bed, Bath & Beyond catalog over there?
+There’s a good coupon in it.
-Yeah, you’re right,…mmmmmmmmm
By this time the centipede made it’s escape and is now lurking and waiting, waiting.