This year has been quite heavy and serious for so many of us; therefore. I've chosen to lighten my load during this week in-between holidays. Allow me to share a few giggles with you. Introducing The Stink Bug Chronicles. Only two installments exist as of this writing, but if I know the elusive stink bug as I believe I do, he'll be back (said in my very worst Arnold Schwarzenegger voice.) Enjoy! And Happy New Year!
The Stink Bug Chronicles, Part I
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
It's Tuesday night and Bob is in Etna at an appointment. Of course, just as I sat down to dinner, I heard the loudest buzzing. Sure enough, I was under attack. A legion of kamikaze stink bugs...okay, it was just one...started to dive bomb my kitchen. No warning, just diving and buzzing and landing near me. No one heard my screams.
I grabbed my plate of leftover Chinese food with the addition of freshly sautéed zucchini tonight and my glass of water and escaped through the dining room and into the bedroom. I sat on the bed and finished eating...quietly...keeping my ears and eyes open for buzzing and bombing. What a bundle of nerves! Did I really believe that one little stink bug was going to hunt me down like a missile finds its target? Did I really think it could get into the bedroom...through a crack, maybe under the door?
After awhile, I felt silly and mustered up the courage to go back into the kitchen. I hadn't put away any food nor had I washed any dishes. All was quiet and I relaxed enough to refill my water glass. And that's when I saw him...crawling on the ridge between our double sink. Chameleon-like, he practically disappeared into the gray of the stainless steel. Our eyes met and I heard the theme song from the Marlboro Man or some recognizable tune from an old western when two cowboys were ready to have shoot out.
We stood there like statues for the longest time. Me, with my paper towel at the ready. Him, defenseless. Or so he appeared. The longer we stood there, I felt my courage dissolve and I ran back to the bedroom with my 'fraidy cat tail between my legs.
Bob just called. He is on his way home, thank God. If we are an army, he is the best soldier for Operation Stink Bug. I relayed the intel and the gauntlet drops at 22:00 hours.
The Stink Bug Chronicles, Part II
Tuesday, December 28, 2021
10:00AM - At this writing, there is a stink bug precariously perched on the beautifully coiled cord of the lamp on my bathroom vanity. The bathroom door is closed and I am safe…for now. Stink bugs freak me out, truth be told. They look like prehistoric predators and I’ve come to believe that their sole purpose is to instill catastrophic, apocalyptic fear in my brain. I have no problem waiting until my husband comes home for lunch so he can retrieve and dispose of said stink bug.
I can hear you judging me…it’s just a stink bug…they don’t bite…what’s the big deal? Well, if I try to pick it up with a tissue, I know I will crush it and I don’t want to smell that stench. A few years ago, my friend discovered a few stink bugs living in her hair dryer and well…ewww, but that’s a story for a sci-fi writer, not me. But listen, that’s not my real fear.
What if I attempt to pick him up and I miss? And he flies about my head possibly (probably) landing on me and then my instincts take over and I wave my arms furiously thereby knocking the lamp onto the ceramic tile floor shattering two light bulbs while in my bare feet? And even worse, what if the enemy escapes and I decide to not go into my bathroom for days? I quickly remind myself that we do have another full bath with shower. Ha! I’m feeling smug now.
Only minutes later, I realize that I need to dry my hair that’s been done up turban-style in the Myrtle Beach towel. I could let it air dry, but I’m getting over a cold and my mother always said to not walk around with wet hair…you’ll catch cold. So, in order to stave off a longer sickness, I summon the courage to open the bathroom door. I quickly scan the walls and ceiling. He’s. Not. There. Gulp! Without looking I pull out the second drawer of my vanity and grab my hair dryer, comb and round brush slamming the drawer shut and managing not to hurt myself as I pull the bathroom door closed in one fell swoop. Adding “ninja” to my skill set.
I breathe. Okay. And now I realize that the hair products I use to style my wet hair are in the cabinet above the toilet in the same bathroom where the stink bug now resides. F@%^#*K!!!
Now I’m really mad. Mostly at myself for allowing an otherwise benign creature about as big as my thumbnail to control my Monday morning. The stink bug has interrupted the envisioned rapture of my chosen vacation day like a spoiler alert you didn’t mean to read. First, I fantasize about bravely walking into the bathroom, spying the winged invader passionately crawling towards the spigot and dousing him with half a can of Aqua Net rendering him lifeless. Then, reality bites and I start thinking about it crawling all over my things, perhaps hiding in plain sight so that when my husband comes home, he’ll tell me he can’t find it and then the real anxiety will set in. I’m obsessed and not in a good way.
Okay, I’m going to go dry my hair now sans mousse and thermal spray. I can deal with having an actual bad hair day more than I can live with a stink bug in my midst.
Let’s pause here for intermission.
11:55AM - Bob arrives home early for lunch. Perhaps he sensed my distress…or maybe he was just hungry. I quickly usher him to the bathroom where the perp is locked inside. My husband charges through the doorway while I remain somewhat safe in the hall, my hand on the door knob ready to pull it shut should the stink bug try to escape.
Of course, the stink bug is an elusive little devil. I showed Bob where he was last seen, snug as a bug in the coiled lamp cord. But he wasn’t there now. Not a trace of him…not on the lamp shade…nor the back of the door…not on the walls…but, what’s that on the floor? With paper towel in hand, Bob picked up the unwelcome intruder and whisked him off to stink bug prison…well, actually he’s in the kitchen trash…with something heavy on top of him so that in case he’s not dead yet, he’ll never escape. Unless of course he’s the Houdini of stink bugs in which case I’ll expect him to reappear at yet another inopportune time.
Until next year...
This is the delightful drama of Lifetime TV--the burdened heroine we can't look away from while whispering, "Thank God it's not me."
Oh my gosh I am crying and laughing. I am not nearly as fearful of stink bugs ( they are new to me .... I' m just learning to be careful not to squash them and create the stink!) but put a roach in my way and I am OUT THE DOOR!! Disgusting. I grew up with them in Florida and still get the willies at the thought of those nasty things! Enjoyed your story!!