there is a beetle in my life. he is unwelcome. he flutters against my blinds and stands in my light fixture so that his wings are shadows the size of skyscrapers dancing on my wall. he zooms past me when i’m entranced during a showing of glee and tries to drown out the magnificence of show choir with buzzing in my ear. he is an attention whore, an unwanted pregnancy, a hangnail on my toe that keeps snagging on my bed covers while i’m trying to sleep.
last night i turned the lights off and laid myself down to sleep. “goodnight moon,” i whispered. “goodnight dust bunnies” i said as i looked under my bed and inhaled the soft grey collecting on top of an old sock i abandoned below the bed. “goodnight bug” i said as i opened my laptop for one last facebook stalking.
and then it whizzed passed me. with such an attitude, with his armidillo shell inches from my nose.
“ENOUGH, BEETLEJUICE” i said. i shone the light of the laptop onto my bedside table and looked for a weapon. birth control? no, that was for killing semen. i think. my hairbush? no, that was for my hair. and for scratching itches on my back. ah, hello eyeglass cleaning spray. if this can wipe my eyes of smears, this can certainly wipe OUT the dammed insect.
the beetle fluttered its wings on my bedspread in a slow, dramatic show of death. “don’t fight it” i whispered. “it was your time.”
but it didn’t die. it grew stronger. eager. more determined. it took flight once again. i hid in the shadows, afraid for it to seek vengence through the opening of my nostrils. while watching the beetle watching me, i grabbed at the next object i could feel with my quivering hand.
a dust buster.
“YOU SUCK” i said to the beetle as i plaegerized a line from the movie casper and simultaneously rid this world of one more terrorist.
i slept that night with my mouth open, free of beetles, free of fear.