Monday, April 16, 2007

It's just not cricket

So there I was, sitting at the computer, happily perusing Manuel's blog in the wee hours of the morning, chuckling away. "Ha ha," I think, along with "Valid point!" and "Thank God I don't work in the restaurant industry anymore!" when the next thing I know, I feel a funny tickling in the arch of my right foot, which is ensconced in its slipper. "That's strange," I think to myself, "that almost feels like.... a bug!" Now some of you may remember that I have a serious bug phobia, the kind of phobia where, given a choice between touching a picture of a bug or cutting off my right hand, I will cut off my whole right arm.

Once it dawned on me that there quite possibly was a large bug in my slipper, actually touching my foot, my whole body was convulsed with a horrible sense of dread. I leapt up from the chair, shrieking "AAAIIIIEEEE!!! AAAIIIIEEEE!!! AAAIIIIEEEE!!!" followed quickly by "FUCK ME!" Strangely enough, this did not wake the sleeping household, which meant that nobody was coming to my defense. Shit.

Off to the kitchen I went, to fetch my large can of Raid-brand wasp spray. Raid-brand wasp spray is the shit, let me tell you. It will kill anything, and you can fire it up with accuracy from 20 feet away. It will keep mice, ants, and what-have-you out of your pantries, if you coat the cracks and corners with just a small amount, and it can take out, in mid-air, the mutant Japanese beetles (which I live in fear of) that fly through our back yard. Oh yeah, it kills wasps, too.

So, armed with my weapon of mass destruction, I warily go back into the living room, to hunt out whatever bug has infested my slipper. I tentatively reach under the desk, where my slipper is lying, and with shuddering hand give that fucker a good shake. Nothing. Crap. This means a further search will be required. I move back the chair, and there it is; a cricket of monstrous proportions. It is a giant, hairy black cricket, with drumsticks on it big enough to satiate a family of 5 in Darfur. It does not move; I assume that either it has been slightly crushed by me standing on it, or the smell of my foot has stunned it. Either way, I go in for the kill while it is quiet. I back away slowly, and say my prayers. SQUIRT! goes the wasp spray, all 7 gallons of it. SPROING! goes the cricket, followed by more truncated, high-pitched screaming by yours truly. I rapidly discharge another round from my weapon, easily hitting my target, as I am a practiced sharpshooter. The cricket scrabbles madly in the carpet, and works his way to some cardboard boxes that have been stuffed under the computer desk.

Fuck's sake, I'll never feel safe now, with the twitching body of a dying cricket under there. Wasp spray may be deadly, and it usually only takes one hit, but it can take a while to secure the demise of the larger insects. Muttering and still shaking, I go off to do the dishes. I return later with a fly swatter to scoop up the dead cricket. No way am I touching that fucker with anything held in my hands, such as a tissue. Yuck. I attempt to scoop up the dead cricket, only to have it break into a million pieces. Did I mention that wasp spray is kinda caustic? Oh well, I'll leave it for the Spouse Sparrow.

Later on that night, I had a spider crawl up my face.

Even later on, I had to give the wasp spray treatment to a large water bug that ran across the floor.

I think it is possible that the Apocalypse is coming. Or I may just need to clean the house. Then again, maybe I can just start drinking. Yeah, I think I'll just start drinking. Valium cocktails, anyone?

Fat Sparrow


Troika said...

I once walked to work and all the way thought about taking my shoe off to shake out the fucking annoying thing that was crushing my toes. I assumed it was an old sock or somesuch.

When I got to my desk I took my shoe off and tipped out a very bloody, very squashed and very dead frog.

Cricket shmicket.

Sassy Sundry said...

Cheers! I need one of those cocktail thingys right about now.

iLL Man said...

Sparrow, a fine reminder for me not to put giant insect photos up on my blog again. I believe you aren't the only one who doesn't appreciate them.......

Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

Raid is the business.

When we moved to California nobody thought to mention that we would have to deal with black widow spiders!!

I go and seek them out at night with my torch and my Raid, and I've got now that I kinda sorta enjoy it. Kill-lust creeps up on you, people, watch out for it. I'm only really satisfied these days if I get a really big juicy one. They're evil. Everything about them, including their little red egg-timer marking, screams EVIL!!!

Manuel said...

Fat Sparrow have you ever left a restaurant without tipping? If so then you can consider it karma! If not just pure coincidence and you should get over it. Joke! My sister is scared of little bugs too

Old Knudsen said...

I read It will keep mice, ants, and what-have-you out of your pantries

as out of your panties.

Well I thought it was funny.

Fat Sparrow said...

Troika -- You sick fuck. I like frogs.

Ill Man -- Did you see the pic Old Knudsen had up on his blog of the camel spiders? Yuck.

Sam -- I'm with you on that one; black widows are creepy, and Raid wasp spray is indeed the shit for killing any shiny-bodied insect.

"Kill-lust creeps up on you, people, watch out for it."

The Spouse Sparrow keeps a body count of the snails he's done for in his garden. He goes on killing sprees after it rains, but now he has to be careful what he says around the Nestling Sparrow, as the Nestling Sparrow is enamored with Gary the Snail on "Sponge Bob."

Manuel -- "Fat Sparrow have you ever left a restaurant without tipping?"

Only when there's a roach in my soup. True story; I'll have to post about it sometime.

Old Knudsen -- You only have to worry about that in your panties.

Conortje said...

Good grief - What is in that stuff? Is the UN aware of it?

paddy said...

Are you sure you never worked in a restaurant? Valium cocktails are my favourite.
You know, if I were you, I would have eaten the cricket.

fatmammycat said...

Fucking bleeeee to the max. We're having a nightmare with bloody jumping spiders at the moment too, the unusual warm weather seem to have sent them nuts, one ran across my lap when I was driving the car the other day, how the fuck I didn't plough straight into a tree I'll never know. Then one jumped at me off the clothes line. Bleeeee.

whyioughtta said...

Like Knudsen, I first read "pantries" as "panties." The phrase "if you coat the cracks and corners with just a small amount," sealed the deal.

Total vicarious heebie-jeebies going on here. Feelin' your pain, sister. We used to live in a basement apartment that we now refer to as The Silverfish Pit. Actually, they weren't silverfish, they were those hideous sentient millipedes that are built much like a Corvette in terms of speed and aerodynamics. If you tried to kill them, they'd look up at you and do the two-finger DeNiro "I've got my eye on you" move before diving down the drain. Wish I'd known about the wasp spray back then...

Ladybristol said...

I don't envy you all those insects.

I only ever find the odd spider in my home, which I can not for the life of me touch.

I have invented my own spider catcher. A cut off coke bottle, long enough to stand at arms length, which I place over the top of said spider, then out with the Raid. Sprayed into the cut off bottle does wonders.

As for daddy long legs (crane flies), I just run.

NiolK said...

Insects are attracted by the scent of the evil and decay. Thats all I'm sayin, take from it what you will.

First Nations said...

1. willamette river, portland ore.
2. august, evening
3. first avenue
6. waterbug
7. large waterbug
8. ...and a long stripe of vanilla custard left on the sidewalk, with a pair of antennae at the end of it.

thank you.

Troika said...

Why am I sick? I didn't put the fucking thing in there.

Fat Sparrow said...

Conortje -- "Good grief - What is in that stuff? Is the UN aware of it?"

Let's hope not; those fuckers at the UN ruin everything.

Paddy -- "Are you sure you never worked in a restaurant?"

Were you born a mong, or just dropped on your head as a child? Never mind; that's a rhetorical question, so don't bother answering. In my post, I clearly stated "Thank God I don't work in the restaurant industry anymore!" If you can't be arsed reading my post, you shouldn't bother commenting.

FMC -- They are obviously out to get you, personally, so be careful.

Whyioughtta -- "Like Knudsen, I first read "pantries" as "panties." The phrase "if you coat the cracks and corners with just a small amount," sealed the deal."

Anytime you start thinking like Old Knudsen, you should be worried.

"The Silverfish Pit" would be a great name for a band.

Ladybristol -- "I have invented my own spider catcher. A cut off coke bottle, long enough to stand at arms length, which I place over the top of said spider, then out with the Raid. Sprayed into the cut off bottle does wonders."

That is fucking brilliant.

I had a friend who went to squish a wasp that was on the inside of her window, and she was going to use the top of a hair-spray can. Unfortunately, she panicked and used the wrong end of the cap, so that the wasp was only trapped, and really, really pissed off. She called for a room-mate, who brought her tape, and they taped the lid to the window. Every day, they'd tap the cap to see if the wasp was still alive. Every day, for 7 months, the wasp buzzed angrily back at the tapping. They left it up for another 2 months after the buzzing stopped, just to be sure.

And crane flies give me the screaming mimis.

Niolk -- I heard the scent of evil and decay is what does it for you.

FN -- Oh, gross. At least you didn't fall in it.

Troika -- Knowing you, I was assuming....

Contemplating Suicide said...

I need a poo.......!