If they didn’t fly it wouldn’t be as bad – if they weren’t so huge. I’m frightened of these creatures you see because I did see one fly across the room once. Clear across. I thought it was an urban legend that water bugs did this. It’s something to see — all ten pounds of, bug.
They engorge themselves with water and can’t move so they stay in one place for quite a while giving you the opportunity to kill them. But I just stand there petrified, poised with a container to put over there heads, afraid they’ll see me coming, leap up and fly in my eye. I don’t want to squash them because they’re so big that they have guts like people, which is gross. So, I stand there crying — as I did last year when I found one in the tub. I stood at the edge of the door with a container moving forward slightly but I couldn’t do it. I stood there 20 minutes before tip toeing away to get the phone to call — who? The police? I’m serious. I started balling when it began twitching. “I’m calling the police!” I screamed, picking up the phone realizing then how ridiculous this would be. I settled on calling the super.
The night before one scurried from behind the book shelf, and just lay there – engorged. THEY ALWAYS DO THIS! I did my routine of getting a container to put on top of it. I usually put the container on it and leave them in there until the super gets here to throw it away or until I get the courage to slide a cardboard under it to carry it to the garbage bins six flights down. Once I left it under the container for a week until I was SURE it was dead. Every day I came home from work and kicked at it to see if it still moved. But the night before last the engorged creature fled behind the book shelf before I got the guts to trap it – I always stand there staring at it first, sometimes crying, sometimes not. These are the times I miss my boyfriend being here. He was good for killing critters.
There was a piece of my kinky hair on the floor not far from where the bug had been which made me think of Gregor Samsa, that poor bastard from Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis who woke up in bed to find he had morphed into a large bug. At one point he starts collecting dust if I remember correctly. I thought of this creature behind my shelves with a trail of dust and kinky hair on its hind parts.
I think Gregor Samsa is dead now. But I know he has friends and that they love the humid Manhattan air. I sprayed the crap out of the area behind the shelves and have the can still by the sofa. Gregor Samsa, if you’re still alive, get ready to die.
I’d rather have a mouse. I know they’re rodents but they’re mammally, like one of Paris Hilton’s dogs. They’re like little Disney creatures peering out from inside of your favorite pink coffee cup. I wonder if they eat bugs?