Attack Of The HUGE Beetle

Last night as I was coming in from the porch with Dayna Leigh, a HUGE (and I mean HUGE) beetle-type bugger snuck in and cavorted up the stairwell. Lisa and Dave sat on the couch saying, "Close the door!" I hollered, "Not until it's OUT!"

I said I need a broom. I walked a lap around the center of the downstairs, because the broom is never where it's supposed to be, grabbed said broom, and returned to the stairs.  I found three cats on the stairs tracking the beetle. It was adorable. Seiji, Aslyn, and Romeo were on various levels of the steps all eyeing the bugger as it flew haphazardly into walls.  If you've ever watched a beetle, you know what I mean.  They are not the brightest bugs.  They tend to kamikaze smash into anything solid.  Then they bounce off, and come back and do it again!  It's like they are trying to knock sense into themselves.

Dave said, "Hit it!"

I said "I can't!  The cats are right there!"  By this point the bug was on the railing, and all three cats had raced over and had paws up looking at it with differing expressions. 

Seiji, being the oldest and most experienced, appeared the old sage.  His look clearly said, "Children, this is a HUMONGOUS crunchy black bug.  Note the extra long whiskers atop its head.  See how they bend and twist.  Note the wings.  If you were to try to EAT that thing, I doubt it would taste yummy. It would definitely be crunchy and clean your teeth, but it'd probably taste putrid! MUCH better to stare at, observe, and play with!"

Aslyn is very studious.  She is MY kitten.  She is quite smart.  You can see the intelligence in her eyes when she is looking at things.  She ponders.  She THINKS!  She KNOWS!  She is the kitten nerd of the household.  She took in the wise teachings of her senior brother.  She got right in there to examine the specimen, but maintained a safe distance, possibly due to lack of a hazmat suit.

Romeo is a typical little boy.  He is curious. He is impulsive.  He is macho!  He will hiss and spit and declare his manhood!  He is skittish and stereotypical "Fraidy-cat" and a big Momma's boy affectionate mush (which we're all fine with).  He had no problem jumping in when Big Brother Seiji wisely taught about the Huge Crunchy Black Bug with Big Whiskers - until the bugger decided to fly again.  Then Romeo quickly backed up and bolted halfway up the stairs safely out of reach to let his little sister and adopted big brother handle the job.

Now armed with a broom, and attached dust pan, glasses on face so I could see my target, daughter manning the door to swat the criminal out of bounds, we were ready!  The kittens were done with their lesson.  The bug was done sitting still for examination.  It flew.  At my face.

I swung!  Four feet of broom sliced the air in front of me!  A HUGE black beetle bug zoomed past my zero'd target zone into my personal space.  I attempted to re-calibrate my strike.  It was impossible.  Bristles were four feet in front.  A 1 inch diameter pole was connecting them to my hands and being quite useless against a bug that has NO concept of tactical flight patterns, but somehow it managed to avoid every swish I made.

The dust pan fell off the broom handle.  It landed on my head and proceeded to slide down my face, taking my glasses crashing to the floor with it!  I'm BLIND!  (Seriously, with a -9.25 prescription, I was effectively blind.)  I held out the deadly weapon to my second in command (my daughter, of course).  She stood stunned for a moment (at least I think she did, I couldn't see squat).  Then the broom left my hand.  I stooped down, aimed for the glare, and scooped up my glasses before moving my feet and retreated to nurse my wounds.

Reinforcements arrived.  The broom was handed off to Lisa.  See made it to the stairs, identified the target, and exclaimed something incredibly un-lady-like.  It was along the lines of, "Holy ^%#$!"  Dave sat safely on the couch.  His contribution was to advise her to "hit it."  Gee.  How helpful. 

She responded, "You have to come see this." 

"After you hit it."

She wacked it.  The broom went down.  It stayed down.  Dave rose from the couch.  He retrieved the dust pan from the floor and approached the stairs.  Lisa asked if he was ready.  He told her to wait.  He then poked and chopped at the broom bristles.

"Are you trying to decapitate it?"  Seriously?  NOW you're going to be a man?  After the women-folk have subdued the perpetrator?  NOW you're going to chop it up with a dust pan?  Our hero!

Lisa moved the broom.  A similar sailor-ish expletive escaped Dave's lips. 

"I wasn't kidding when I said the bugger was HUGE!"  Why does no one believe me?

Dave scooped up the beetle, observed it for a moment, and commented that, "only four of its six legs are currently working."  That makes me feel so much more comfortable.  Actually, it makes me feel a little bad for the bug.  Not that I like bugs.  I generally don't.  But I DO appreciate their necessity in the world, and respect their right to exist in it.  I even have a spider living in my room.  I have less of a bug problem in there since its arrival, so I leave it alone.  When we first moved in, I had my windows open one night and all sorts of little buggers came through the screen to hang out with me.  I didn't like that.  So Aragog III stays, rent free, all you can eat buffet.