I'm supposed to tell the story about a wild animal winding up somewhere its not supposed to be. In the past. Or something.
Growing up in MT, animals were everywhere. There was a month in the summer when I was about 5 when I wasn't allowed in the deep grass in the back yard. Because there were supposedly a batch of wild rattle snakes on the prowl. And mom was scared. But there never were snakes in the back yard. And I still crept out there at dusk and peed in the corners (no one said I was civilized at that age- and we only had one bathroom- very inconvenient. Or incontinent.)
I guess the strangest one was in AZ, whilst attending ASU. I got stung in the armpit by a scorpion while I slept. In my bed. Hurt like hell. I would compare it to having a lit match put out in your skin. Followed by the tingles that happen when a limb falls asleep. Sharper though. For about 10 hours. We killed the little fucker right away. But then had trouble falling asleep again- because of the creepy crawlies. So maybe that qualifies. I dunno. I didn't make the rules. I only try to follow them.
Stupid scorpion.
I had a cockroach go up my nose in my sleep too. Had to blow it across the room to remove it. Rude ass way to wake up. Stupid AZ and the damned bugs. Unclean fucking place, if you ask me. All of them came from the Oleander bushes. Which have the added charm of being poisonous. Ratty, nasty bushes.
Stupid cockroach.
There. Hope that works. Now I'm in a foul mood- remembering my traumatic past with bugs.
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3 comments:
holy mother of all feck!
you gots stories, woman...
Yeah, well, shucks. (gazes sheepishly at toes while blushing)
The bug stories are true, alas. I hate AZ. None of the bugs survived the incidents. And I don't give a RAT'S ass what PETA thinks about that.
That was good. Sorry my story is still a no show.
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