favoritebean_writes

Look, I can explain.  I was just trying to convey my heartfelt gratitude.  After all, you saved me from the brink of death.  I’m not even exaggerating, honest!

 

Of course I am beyond grateful.  I adore you, and I just want to express that.

 

I’m sorry if my tone sounded angry.  I’m sorry for causing you to scream when I went in for a kiss. 

 

I’m truly sorry for biting your leg, that was me just trying to keep from falling through the cracks. I wasn’t sure how to stop everything from moving, and your leg seemed the best bet for me to sink my hooks into you. 

 

At least I didn’t sting you.  That would have spelled the end for me, and at that moment, I was still running on adrenaline for that second chance at life. 

 

Oh, won’t you love me? Please?

 

Please, don’t hit me, I can taste the warm air. Come leap with me.  My wings, they still work, shall carry us.  I love you, let us live forever!

 

Wait! 

 

Wait!

 

WAIT! Please, you saved my life in scorching temps, please don’t squash me!  I’ll go.  I thought you would love me; you gave me a second life.

 

You don’t have to scream.  I’ll go into that bright sky.  Goodbye.

 

 *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

 

As the engine revved to a small roar, air rushed from the vents, the computer programmed to cool the scorching interior.   Out flies a very angry thing, buzzing, charging across the windshield.

 

Was it inside?

 

I have to pick up my daughter from camp, and admittedly, I only had fifteen minutes to get across town.  The thermostat showed a temperature of 101, and I am certain that whatever buzzed across the dashboard must be dead in this heat.

 

Six thick legs attached to spindly wings, the creature emerges again from the air vents. Quite alive.

 

Probably furious.

 

I don’t have time to pull over, so I open the windows and sunroof.  I see a striped body.  Was it a damsel fly? A paper wasp?  It has a hooked tail, and a sucker.  I shudder, and drivers turn to stare at me as I pass, mouths agape. 

 

Is that the biggest mosquito I’ve ever seen? 

 

No.

 

This was clearly an abomination, and it was angry.  The wings buzzed angrily as it tried to find footing on the windshield.  Clearly, it had no interest in flying peacefully out the window. This creature was declaring war.    

 

I pull up to a red light, and the bug advances toward me.  I watch in horror as it cleans first the antennae, then its barbed tail.  I still cannot figure out what sort of monstrosity it is, but if I could guess, I knew it had plans to murder me for waking it from its heat induced slumber. 

 

“Don’t come near me!” I shout.  No one hears me, the cars next to me have their windows up, a/c units blasting.  They sit smug in their seats unaware of the attempt on my life while waiting for the light to change on Colorado Boulevard. 

 

I scan the front seat for something to encourage the bug away from me, and out into the warm California air.  There is nothing, save for a flimsy parking paper. 

 

I’m doomed.

 

As I make it to the parking structure at camp, the angry bug with noisy wings, large proboscis, and a stinger decides to attack.  I pass a parked LA County Sheriff’s car screaming in terror as that evil beast lands on my leg and slides down.

 

“NO! NO! NO! GET OFF!  AAAUUUUGGGHHHHH!!!”

 

I careen around the corner, cursing my folly that I didn’t notice the steering wheel was adjusted for my husband’s height, not mine.  My legs are pinned beneath, and I can’t dodge the miniature demon bug.

 

I park the car in record time, and well, I might add.  I readjust the steering wheel and raise the windows a touch.  Freed, the Bug of Doom perches on the window.  I glance below into the door drink holder and spy a package of Windex window wipes.  I grab the bright blue plastic package and raise it slowly toward the evil monster perched upon my driver’s side window. 

 

“You need to leave!  NOW!” I say sternly and use the package to gently push the winged demon off of the window into the great beyond. 

 

The bug does not budge.

 

“I don’t have time for this!” I sigh with exasperation. 

 

“Please GO!”   I give another push, and the critter bumbles along to the edge of the concrete structure.

 

I promptly close the windows and sunroof, shut off the car, and leave as fast as I can to get my daughter from camp.