Bugging me – Again

Ask and ye shall receive… the second story of the attack of the giant beetles inside my apartment.

A week or two after the first incident, I had finally stopped looking for beetles around every corner. I decided that the giant life threatening beetle referenced in my last post was merely a coincidence. A one time deal. After all, my apartment is not especially prone to bugs. So my blood pressure had returned to normal and I could once again sleep at night without excessive scratching. Of course, this is where the story will go horribly wrong for me.

I was once again sitting on the couch and enjoying a quiet night in. Early in the evening, I heard some rattling of the blinds on the blacony door. Nothing serious, just sounds like they were shifting slightly. It was hot outside and the AC was on, so I decided that must be the culprit. A tiny voice in the back of my head warned me that this was a new noise and having the AC on was not a new thing. But I ignored it. No need to be paranoid, I told myself.

An hour or so later, the beetle found his way to the wall above my TV. That’s right, the exact same kind of big nasty beetle. I did not scream, although I admit I did dance and scratch a bit. But I also sighed and went in search of something I could use to reach and kill the nasty thing. After some careful rooting around, I spotted my black ballet flats. Triumphantly, I snatched up my new weapon and turned back to the wall to do the dirty dead.

But the beetle was gone.

One frantic search later, I located it on the vaulted ceiling of my apartment. Like 18′ up in the air. I waved the black ballet flat at the beetle in a menacing fashion but he seemed unimpressed. He didn’t move. We were at an impasse.

The real problem here was that I needed to go to bed. But now my blood pressure was elevated and there was a beetle on the loose. Clearly sleep was no longer an option until the beetle was dead. I mean, he could fly into the bedroom and land on me in my sleep! Seriously!

The beetle and I were clearly at a standoff, so I did the only thing I could really do at the point. I upped the ante. I threw my shoe at the ceiling. That’s right. I threw my shoe at the ceiling. Hit it too. But alas, I missed the beetle. He remained uninterested in me or my airborne black ballet flats. But now that I knew I could hit these high ceilings, I kept trying. I got close to the darn thing too, but never quite hit him.

The beetle tired of my game and took to the air, only to land on another spot too high to reach. Lather rinse repeat… my shoes flew once more. Then it happened. On one trip to retrieve my ballet flats, the beetle moved and I lost him. I stood in the kitchen in a panic brandishing my weapons of choice and deperately trying to locate the offending insect. I finally found him and he’d made a fatal mistake. He was within reach.

I approached the wall carefully, like a hunter stalking it’s obviously deadly prey. The beetle sat still. I drew my arm back slowly all while trying to stay as calm and still as possible. I locked eyes with the dirty giant beetle. And then I smacked him!

He spiraled off of the wall like a crashing airplane and I jumped back and screamed. And danced. And itched. But I had lost him. I knew it wasn’t a direct hit but I also knew he was wounded at the very least. Still I could not locate the beetle. I spent the next 15 minutes or so convincing myself that he had to be dead or dying somewhere. I finally went to bed.

And finally, I knew I had to ask for help. A few days later, when I had finally stopped skulking into the living room like a nervous deer, I had a friend come over to get rid of the bug. Yes, it’s true. I, Jane Wonder, called someone to dispose of a dead bug. And it was indeed dead… died right where it landed that night after I smacked it. And now it is gone.

Hopefully I won’t ever see another one of those damn things again.

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