Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Jeepers creepers.

In honor of the fact that I am currently sleeping in a place where they advertise BIG ASS MOSQUITO NETS ON EVERY SINGLE BED!, I figured I'd write a buggy post. Prepare to get the heeby jeebies.

My mom once woke up in the middle of the night with an intense pain on her throat, and when she moved her hand to her throat she felt something fat and long and warm on her neck- she said it felt like a "big, fat finger" there. She grabbed it and slung it and lept out of bed, turned on the light, woke my dad up. They searched and couldn't find anything anywhere, but she had a big red mark on her throat. The next morning when she was making her bed she moved her pillow and there was a fat, dead centipede.

One of my friends recently told me a story about her brother getting his morning cup of coffee and then feeling something odd in his mouth when he took a big gulp. Apparently there was a big, fat roach in the cup and he poured his coffee over it without even realizing it.

My sister ate a dead roach out of the window sill when she was a toddler. My mom saw what she was doing just a moment too late to stop her.

When I was a kid I was sitting on my bed, eating a piece of pizza and watching tv when a fatass roach fell off the ceiling and onto my pizza that I was just about to shove into my mouth.

When I was a college freshman I moved to an apartment in Montevallo. One night I discovered a large cockroach in the apartment. When I tried to capture it with a jar and a postcard I discovered that it really liked to fly through the air AFTER ME, like chasing me through the house as I screamed my head off. I finally caught it and put it outside. The next day I came home from class and that EXACT SAME STALKING CHASING COCKROACH was in my apartment again. I had a terrible fever and a bad bladder infection so after trying to catch it and being chased by it for about 30 minutes I gave up and drove the hour-long drive back to Leeds to spend the night at my mom's because I was too scared of the roach. The next day I caught it under a jar and left it. I would talk to it every day when I came home from class. After a few days it died. I didn't feel bad.

And finally, true story: Jason busted his knuckle once punching a cockroach in the face.

1 comment:

Ramey Channell said...

Oh, golly wolly, I hate to tell you, the m----- f----- was not dead. He was under my pilliow as alive and grisly as a centipede can be. And the place on my throat stayed there for a long time, about 2 years.