I have a long and troubling history with bugs. I think it's mostly my fault. When I was five, my brother and I liked to stomp on the ants in my grandma's driveway.
My brother and I were digging in the dirt on the side of our house with a little plastic shovel, trying to find treasure, or at least something interesting. We found this weird little gray blob that looked like a sack.
The blobby little sack tore open and black stuff started coming out.
It turns out that the black stuff was spiders.
Lots of spiders. Lots of evil, angry, tiny spiders spilling out of the sack and scuttling on their tiny horrible legs towards us.
THERE WERE HUNDREDS OF THEM.
I still have nightmares about this, guys.
I was convinced for a long time that it couldn't get any worse than that, but let me tell you: IT DID. The next horrifying run-in with vindictive bugs happened when I was an angsty teenager. One morning as I woke from a peaceful sleep, I heard this little scratching sound by my ear. It was quiet, but had the alarming quality of sounding like something that was alive and invading my personal space. As soon as I found the source, I was already in grave peril.
The was a bug on my pillow, headed straight for my mouth. That's right; a bug tried to sacrifice itself in the name of revenge by CRAWLING INTO MY MOUTH.
Although I escaped having the bug enter my mouth, I didn't trust my pillow for a long time. Or mattress. Or any of the house.
You're probably convinced that it couldn't get any worse than that, right? Unfortunately for both of us, IT DID.
In seventh grade science, all the biology teachers gave their students a project in order to appreciate how sciencey nature is. All the merciful teachers with sense assigned their students to create a leaf collection, to show the diversity and beauty of autumn leaves in our town. But MY teacher thought leaf collections were too boring, too lacking in adventure. He assigned us to create BUG COLLECTIONS (seriously, what kind of sick, twisted irony is that?).
Bug collections--it is exactly how it sounds. We were ordered to catch bugs (with our HANDS),
"humanely" kill them by freezing them (by our FOOD),
and then stick pins through their crunchy, crackly little corpses to display them on some cardboard (ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh).
Needless to say, I forced my dad to do the entire project for me. Except for writing the labels. I did that like a champ.
Am I the only one that all the bugs in the world are targeting, or are there other victims out there? Although it will probably generate more content for awful nightmares, I must know: AM I THE ONLY ONE??