War in the Attic: "Just another bug hunt"
Sep. 6th, 2006 03:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonHe doesn't see me. He's just all chill and checking out the new kitchen. I step quietly towards him the fear amplifying every nerve in my body. He begins to turn. This is it. If I don't do this now I lose the advantage of surprise.
"Die you filthy mother-fucker!" I scream suddenly, whacking him across the length of his entire body and dropping him down to the ground. I leap back trying to see where he's landed but he's gone on stealth mode. My skin breaks out in goose bumps. I can feel him out there hiding in the shadows. Watching me. Waiting for the perfect moment to come scurrying out of ambush and come crawling up my leg.
There is only the silence of extreme expectation.
I step forward to kick the sink cabinet doors closed. That's when he makes a break for it across the kitchen floor. I go to smash the little fucker with my sandal and that's when his back opens up into a pair of wings and he flies up after me.
I scream in terror and make it back to my bedroom slamming the door just in the nick of time!
'My god this one can fly' I think to myself. What am I going to do? I can't just hide in here for the rest of the night. I have to go out there eventually. Where he'll probably make a kamikazie flight straight into my mouth. From there he'll crawl right down my throat and hatch it's filthy brood in my guts. Thousands of them will hatch in my stomach and begin colonizing the inside of my body, converting my organs into some hideous insect hive. Soon they'll take other my brain and i'll be a walking palmetto zombie bug factory. They'll have to shoot me, in the forehead no less, overwise i'll just get up again and go all George Romero on their asses. This is horrible! They'll have to have a close casket funeral and my parents will sit there in tears, their only child another victim of the Insect Peril.
I can't be a coward now. I have to be strong. Not just for me but also because I got my Mom & Dad to think about. I have a girlfriend i've never met and then there's my best friend Bill, who'll probably be the one who has to take me down (he has agreed to be the one to put a bullet in my brain in case I should ever contract the "Zombiitist"). Shit, what about my Live Journal for that matter? Who'll post non-sensical comic book covers if I go to that big blog in the sky all of a sudden?
This would be a good time for Jesus to show up!
"Rob... Rob what's the matter my son?"
"It's a nasty ass phantom fighter palmetto bug, Jesus!"
"What?!?! O man I just hate those little fuckers... y'know the only reason DAD made them was to give me the heebie jeebies... sorry kid you're on your own here... ewwww palmetto bugs..."
"Gee thanks loads Jesus! Now you see why the Buddhists get my vote!
Okay, this is it, no more fooling around! I'm armed with only a single flip-flop and I slowly creak the door open. Bill Paxton's astral body hovers behind me doing his whole 'we're all gonna die man... game over! Game over!' routine. I shoo him back to the corner of my pop culture haunted subconscious and step out into the kitchen cautiously.
So far, so good. The coast is clear. Maybe, just maybe, he's left for some other... oh shit! There he is crawling along the wall behind the coffee maker like he owns the fucking joint!
"DIE YOU SON OF A BITCH DIE-DIE-DIE!" I scream and slap him with the sole of the flip-flop with a large bang. It just fazes him a little and he drops down to the counter. "FUCK YOU" I yell and slam the fucker with a flip-flop shot that smashes his exoskeleton into a biological car wreck. "DIE!!!" I yell again and proceed to hammering him into a pulp of smashed organs.
I'm shaking from the adrenalin rush. I can't stop trembling. I look around scanning the kitchen for any possible back up. I check the ceiling. I check the doors. Eyes tick tocking back and forth and a sheen of panic sweat forming a film over my body. Nothing. This must have been their champion... sent by his people to slay me and rid his land once and for all of the evil giant. Or what if he was merely a scout? What if this was just a test? What if next time there's a whole squadron of the flying fuckers?
I can't believe I live in a country where this is allowed to go on. I can't believe that the President (any president not just our current Chimp-in-Charge) has allowed the American people to be held hostage by these hideous demon bug invaders. To quote the great Homer J Simpson: "Did we lose a war? That's not America... that's not even Mexico!"
I light up a smoke and sit on my bed waiting for my heart to slow down. I've won a skirmish but the battle for the attic has just begun!
"Get away from my kitchen, you bitch!"
"Die you filthy mother-fucker!" I scream suddenly, whacking him across the length of his entire body and dropping him down to the ground. I leap back trying to see where he's landed but he's gone on stealth mode. My skin breaks out in goose bumps. I can feel him out there hiding in the shadows. Watching me. Waiting for the perfect moment to come scurrying out of ambush and come crawling up my leg.
There is only the silence of extreme expectation.
I step forward to kick the sink cabinet doors closed. That's when he makes a break for it across the kitchen floor. I go to smash the little fucker with my sandal and that's when his back opens up into a pair of wings and he flies up after me.
I scream in terror and make it back to my bedroom slamming the door just in the nick of time!
'My god this one can fly' I think to myself. What am I going to do? I can't just hide in here for the rest of the night. I have to go out there eventually. Where he'll probably make a kamikazie flight straight into my mouth. From there he'll crawl right down my throat and hatch it's filthy brood in my guts. Thousands of them will hatch in my stomach and begin colonizing the inside of my body, converting my organs into some hideous insect hive. Soon they'll take other my brain and i'll be a walking palmetto zombie bug factory. They'll have to shoot me, in the forehead no less, overwise i'll just get up again and go all George Romero on their asses. This is horrible! They'll have to have a close casket funeral and my parents will sit there in tears, their only child another victim of the Insect Peril.
I can't be a coward now. I have to be strong. Not just for me but also because I got my Mom & Dad to think about. I have a girlfriend i've never met and then there's my best friend Bill, who'll probably be the one who has to take me down (he has agreed to be the one to put a bullet in my brain in case I should ever contract the "Zombiitist"). Shit, what about my Live Journal for that matter? Who'll post non-sensical comic book covers if I go to that big blog in the sky all of a sudden?
This would be a good time for Jesus to show up!
"Rob... Rob what's the matter my son?"
"It's a nasty ass phantom fighter palmetto bug, Jesus!"
"What?!?! O man I just hate those little fuckers... y'know the only reason DAD made them was to give me the heebie jeebies... sorry kid you're on your own here... ewwww palmetto bugs..."
"Gee thanks loads Jesus! Now you see why the Buddhists get my vote!
Okay, this is it, no more fooling around! I'm armed with only a single flip-flop and I slowly creak the door open. Bill Paxton's astral body hovers behind me doing his whole 'we're all gonna die man... game over! Game over!' routine. I shoo him back to the corner of my pop culture haunted subconscious and step out into the kitchen cautiously.
So far, so good. The coast is clear. Maybe, just maybe, he's left for some other... oh shit! There he is crawling along the wall behind the coffee maker like he owns the fucking joint!
"DIE YOU SON OF A BITCH DIE-DIE-DIE!" I scream and slap him with the sole of the flip-flop with a large bang. It just fazes him a little and he drops down to the counter. "FUCK YOU" I yell and slam the fucker with a flip-flop shot that smashes his exoskeleton into a biological car wreck. "DIE!!!" I yell again and proceed to hammering him into a pulp of smashed organs.
I'm shaking from the adrenalin rush. I can't stop trembling. I look around scanning the kitchen for any possible back up. I check the ceiling. I check the doors. Eyes tick tocking back and forth and a sheen of panic sweat forming a film over my body. Nothing. This must have been their champion... sent by his people to slay me and rid his land once and for all of the evil giant. Or what if he was merely a scout? What if this was just a test? What if next time there's a whole squadron of the flying fuckers?
I can't believe I live in a country where this is allowed to go on. I can't believe that the President (any president not just our current Chimp-in-Charge) has allowed the American people to be held hostage by these hideous demon bug invaders. To quote the great Homer J Simpson: "Did we lose a war? That's not America... that's not even Mexico!"
I light up a smoke and sit on my bed waiting for my heart to slow down. I've won a skirmish but the battle for the attic has just begun!
"Get away from my kitchen, you bitch!"
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no subject
on 2006-09-06 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-09-06 08:06 pm (UTC)Of course i'd be willing to resort to nerve gas if I thought it'd kill the wee bastiches!
no subject
on 2006-09-06 08:18 pm (UTC)You've spotted my prey! I L-O-V-E squishing those little fuckers. "Crunch and pop, crunch and pop," the kitties say.
no subject
on 2006-09-06 08:58 pm (UTC)xxx
no subject
on 2006-09-08 09:35 pm (UTC)