A Bugs Life

Code name: Bugkiller
Job Description: See code name.

0600 hours:

While on tactical maneuvers in my bathroom (i.e.-putting in my contact lenses), I became aware of a slight movement to my right. Only half-ready for battle, with one eye still lacking its UV coated protection, I turn, and squinting slightly, can make out the movement of tiny legs rolling silently across the floor.

I stop movement, and watch the suspect as it approaches the wall. Veering neither left nor right, it instead heads directly to the baseboard, and in a stunning maneuver, climbs straight up. Realizing that I have no suitable weapon at hand, I watch as the creature determines that up is not where he wants to be, and makes a wayward turn back to the floor. Still holding my breath, my remaining contact lens perched precariously on the tip of my finger, I watch silently as the centipede encounters numerous obstacles, finally becoming lost under the microwave cart. Suddenly, it dawns on me that this is Big C, my surefire protection from the forthcoming spider invasion.

Although I breathe easier at his hidden presence, I know that this is not something I can let go. After all, this bug, nay, this centipede with its 100 legs should move faster than this which I have witnessed. And why has it come into the light, these creatures that shun the harsh luminescence? Was it merely lost and startled after spending the night hunting for the other creatures that inhabit my apartment? In days past, I have seen Big C move as fast as the blink of an eye, a barely discerning flicker of movement which quickly becomes forgotten as life progresses.

However, was it not just yesterday that I discovered the hiding place of my arch nemesis, Monsieur Spider? Did I not pull open the curtain next to my bed, and find a complex series of bunkers, created for the specific purpose of surveillance on none other than me? During the battle that ensued between the Monsieur and I, did he not retreat to the same baseboard hiding places that my ally, Big C, had just used for his own wary journey? Perhaps Big C has outlived his usefulness to me and my mission. He has grown old and slow, and there are many battles yet to fight.

Contemplating my next moves in the encroaching days, as I assume that confrontation with Big C will be imminent, I quickly finish contact insertion. As I turn to close the bathroom door, who do I encounter? None other than the Big C himself, meandering through my home, now going in the opposite direction from whence he had secreted himself. Silent and stealthy, I track his progress across the gray carpete that serves him well as camouflage.

Still having no weapon at hand, I creep behind him, hoping to reach the safety and protection of my shoes before he discovers me and runs towards my bare feet,--his only option for escape. Suddenly, he stops and attempts to become one with the carpeting. He is aware of my presence, and is now sure of the encroaching danger I represent. Anticipating how this battle will play out, I make a frantic grab for the closest weapon at hand—the Doc Marten of Death—and bring it down over his body, snuffing out his last little buggy breath of life.

Later, I will think of my actions that brought around the demise of Big C. As the weather turns chill, I know that I will miss his sentry duties, securing the perimeter, and perhaps fighting silent battles with the creatures who attempt to enter. He served his purpose well, and in doing so, has been afforded a heroes death, and a paupers’ funeral.