Stop it, You're Bugging Me!

Doing my patriotic duty, killing nasty Cicadas, one at a time...

Thursday evening: It was a beautiful night, and wasting another night on my couch would be an insult to one of the last remaining fabulously tempered evenings of the year. J. Mo came to pick me up for a late night boozing rendezvous. I leisurely stroll out my apartment complex double doors, smile on my face and glide in my step. J. Mo was parked in the semi-circle out front. I waved to her as I pushed open the door, and instead of a mutual pleasant exchange, she screamed the most horrified of all screams. Puzzled I look around to see what could cause her such terror.....

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ is all I heard. And then all the sudden a SWOOOOOOOP in front of my face. I looked down and landed at my feet is the monster of all bugs. It was huge and dinosaur-like. It had sharp toofers (that is Michelle-speak for teeth, people). I think it even growled at me. I swear it even tried to take a bite out of my leg.

Knowing that if the prehistoric creature were to get into my building, it would use it's canine sense and having gotten a good whiff of my pheromones could track the scent back to my apartment, whip out an axe, break into my apartment, and take up residence as a squatter. This couldn't happen. I went to beat it with my shoe, but then I remembered that my shoes were expense and stained bug juice just wouldn't suit them. So, I fought back the only way I knew how.....I found the garden hose and power-sprayed the sucker into an early death. It felt good. Now if I could just do the same to assholes I date...