I live in fear of bugs. Don’t ask me why, it’s completely irrational.
Now, one would reason that if I’m *aware* that it’s completely irrational that I should no longer fear them, right? Nice try, einstein.
Suffice it to say that the little chitinous bastards terrify me.
Now, it came to pass one day, whilst I was lounging about in my leopardprint fleece bathrobe – you know, the one I do that little dance to all the passing traffic outside my apartment in? Yeah, that one.
I’m gettin’ ready to enter the shower, when in the middle of turning the water on, I happen to notice that there’s this ENORMOUS HOUSE CENTIPEDE from HELL RIGHT NEXT TO THE DAMNED FAUCET.
Of course, me being me, I freaked.
I had no idea what this thing was at the time, and was informed later that it was probably a ‘water bug’. Like that helped. It didn’t make me any less scared that the creepy crawlies could be all over my bedroom or anything. I believe I shrieked in a rather girly fashion and fled, not bothering to turn the water off. At the time, I was living with a big, gay skinhead by the name of Chief. He was out momentarily, so I figured he could take care of the damned thing when he got back as I set to trembling and crying quietly in a chair. Like I said, irrational fear. It’s a bitch.
Ten minutes later, and the water is still running, he comes home and sees me cowering in the farthest possible spot away from the bathroom. He asks what’s wrong, and in my best possible ‘I’m not a big, weepy girl’ voice I tell him about the bug.
I believe I threw something at him.
He stopped laughing.
I tell him that there’s NO way in HELL that I’m going back in that bathroom with Mothra’s distant cousin hovering over the faucet like that, and that if he doesn’t want the house to begin to reek of a ripe girl in midsummer that hasn’t taken a shower yet that he’d better get rid of the damned thing.
He begrudgingly made his way to the bathroom and after a precursory ONE MINUTE look, he says he can’t see anything. I believe I threw something else at him at this point.
He continued to look because I was shrieking like a harridan, and after a thourough investigation of said tiled area, found nothing.
Now I really freak, because in my mind, the bug has now obviously escaped and is somewhere in my bed just waiting to leap out and do me grievous injury whilst I sleep.
Chief finally gets me calmed down and convinces me to get into the shower because I’d just finished working out and was becoming particularly pungent.
“Are you SURE it’s gone??” I asked him, and he assured me that indeed it was.
I then proceeded to inform him that if it WASN’T gone, that he was going to be taking me to the hospital for the multiple injuries that I would surely inflict on both of us as I scrambled to get the hell away from it if it happened to leap onto me while I was soaping up.
Again, the reassurance that nothing was there. I trepidatiously made my way to the bathroom, telling him that he had to STAY in the bathroom and read to me just in case it happened to appear so that he could crush it under his mighty Doc Martens of Doom.
We have (and, years later, continue to have) a strange relationship.
So I get into the shower, and tra-la-la, start rising off, and everything is going really good until HOLY SCUTIGERA COLEOPTRA! The frelling bug is RIGHT ABOVE MY HEAD!
And it looks like a jumper.
Needless to say, it was at this critical juncture that I lost my collective wits and launched myself bodily out of the shower and across the bathroom.
The way my roomate described it, it sounded like I actually *flew* out of the shower to land at his feet, breaking the toilet and yanking the sink off the wall, not to mention almost cracking my damned kneecaps to powder.
Chief yelped out, pulling the book towards him – wide-eyed as he took a couple seconds to assess the situation.
It didn’t look good.
The sink was on the floor and water was spraying up into the air and there was a nude, tattooed, green haired girl at his feet screeching as she slowly clawed her way across the bathroom floor to safety.
It is at this point that I feel I should state exactly how SMALL this bathroom was. Both of us BARELY fit into it. The toilet and the radiator are about two feet apart from one another, which is where I ended up landing. There are two doors, one that goes into the hallway, and one right across from the shower that went into my bedroom.
So, now I’m on the floor, mewling piteously and crawling like a wounded war veteran under heavy fire that’s been hit by shrapnel.
My knees are bleeding, and the only thing that’s running through my mind is ‘Gotta get away from the bug…’. It’s like a mantra as I chant the words, “It’s still there…it’s still there…” under my breath in a shaky voice as my roomate goes to get a chair to prop the sink up on so that water keeps from showering the rest of the bathroom.
I finally make it all the way into the bedroom, and I look down at my knees which are only bleeding a small amount. I then look up to see his horrified expression.
We both burst into hysterics at the same time.
The reasoning here was that I was dating a military Physicians Assistant at the time, and he was on his way over to see me.
In fact, he was supposed to arrive at any minute. Apparently we both had the same thought.
How hilarious would the look on his face be if he walked in the door and saw this mayhem right now?
I eventually picked myself off the floor and hobbled back out to my ‘furthest point from the bathroom’ perch as Chief went into the bathroom with a hammer and started randomly battering the walls with it yelling, “Take that, you bitch!”
Later, my boyfriend at the time showed up and tended to my wounds. I wouldn’t go into the shower without him for a week…
(Keep in mind that my current apartment is chock full of these bugs, and I’ve since learned how to stomp first and shudder and whimper later. I should really get a cat)