In which bugs are not allowed.

I'm not discriminatory in my hatred of bugs, and for this I believe I am a better person.

It does not matter the size of its antennae, nor the count of its legs. It does not matter the color of its skin, nor the amount of goo that emerges when I flatten it with a shoe, which I've thrown from across the room, because, HOLY HELL, it's a bug and it does NOT belong in my apartment. All that matters is that it's a bug. And therefore I hate it. And therefore if I feel the need to expel it from existence (or squeal and scream and kick and yell and squeeze tears forth my eyes until someone else kills it. Or throw a shoe), I most certainly will.

Amen.

So, on that note, on with the story.

La dee da, there I am, preparing for a night of bug-free slumber, when I enter the bathroom, which you might remember from the killer spider episode. I open the cabinet because, hi, this is where I keep things one needs to prepare for bed, i.e. toothpaste, face wash, dead bugs. Er, NO. Dead bugs do NOT belong in this equation.

There, upon my shelf, next to nail polish remover and Mary Kay Exfoliating Hand Soap, was a bug. A large, shelled, crusty, screaming, fire-breathing, 24-year-old-woman-eating, dead bug. OK, I say "dead," but I swear to you, it was "napping;" curled up on its side, plotting my forthcoming doom. And so, of course, this is my cue to scream bloody murder. And slam the cabinet door. And force The Fiance, who is cozied up under the covers, to GET OFF YOUR BUTT AND RID MY PLACE OF RESIDENCE OF THIS FIRE-BREATHING CREATURE BECAUSE IF YOU ARE GOING TO MARRY ME YOU MUST LEARN TO SAVE MY LIFE now. Ahem. Please.

"It's dead," he tells me, seemingly unalarmed by the situation, which is escalating before his eyes.

"IT'S A BUG OH MY GOD KILL IT OR IT WILL EAT ME NOW CRAP GET IT OUT OF HERE DO YOU REALLY WANT ME TO DIE?!"

And that is how one successfully rids a bathroom cabinet of (terrifying, plotting, evil) dead bugs. And then, of course, I kiss The (very brave, noble) Fiance and thank him for saving my life (again) and whatnot.

It's a tough job, saving the world of evil-doing bugs, but he does well. I'll keep him.