growing in the goo

Sitting at my computer, I was penning (can you "pen" an email?) a note to my brother's teacher. The teacher and a group of Chinese exchange students are coming to DC this weekend, and I'm offering my services as a chaperone/generally cool person to see and be seen with. The offer is a bit self-serving, because my family has one of the students staying at our house, and he is sleeping in my bedroom (or, as my dad calls it, "the princess suite"). It's always good to know whose head is resting on my home pillow.

Suddenly, I hear a shriek from E. Being that we're girls, a shriek of hilarity is not that uncommon. But that shriek was swiftly followed by a chorus of blood-curdling screams. Wondering if perhaps someone had chopped off their hand, I lazily called out, "is something wrong?"

And C-note uttered the accursed word in our apartment. The one that they've heard me screaming in the dead of the night. The one that simultaneously springs us to action, and freezes us in our spots.

"BUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!"

I ran out into the living room, grabbing a sturdy flip flop on the way. Once in the area, I surveyed the scene. It was pretty much a paradise for bug hiding and playing. Two sofas, perfect for concealment. An empty of bowl of ice cream that had served as a snack while tv watching. Tasty. The open ironing board, effectively hampering maneuvering on our part. And a bag of apples, ripe and untouched since the bobbing festivities of Saturday night.

E was crouching down, banging on the sides of the sofas to try to scare the thing out. They both told me that it was the biggest bug they've ever seen. Attempting to surprise it, C-note and I both grabbed an end of the sofa and launched it three feet to the left. No dice.

C-note and I regrouped in the corner as E continued to do her thing. E spotted it, screamed, vaulted over the sofa, and ran to the kitchen. C-note caught a glimpse, screamed, ran to the kitchen. I saw the apple bag rustling, making crazy shadows on the wall, I screamed, and possibly left tracks in the carpet during my hasty retreat.

We talked some sense into each other in the kitchen ("a bug! a bug! we can't run from a bug!") and came back out. E pointed to where the insect had last been spotted.

And...there it was. I think he knew his game was up when he heard the screams, and the approaching strangled cry emanating from my throat. I slapped with the shoe, he dodged. I slapped again. He dodged. I slapped, and hit. He bounced, dodged. I then delivered the kill shot. Not with the finesse of a mercenary, but with the clumsiness of someone in the throes of terror.

After further analysis, we classified it as a cricket. I don't think it was a cricket.

Cleaning up (tossing the ripe apples, putting the bowl in the dishwasher), C-note and I lifted the sofa to put it back in place. And it was totally heavy and not as moveable as before.

Oh, adrenaline.