Tie Game

Mark me, for I have vanquished the evil katydid in my apartment and sent its leafy green carcass back to the dark, fetid hell from whence it came.

It all started when I overslept this morning. The night before last, I’d slept poorly due to the sounds of the katydid and the beetle that had somehow gotten into my apartment and the fact that I had left the kitchen light on, hoping it would lure the bugs closer to the front door of my home. Last night, I could still hear the katydid, but I couldn’t find it. Fast-forward to me waking up this morning at 8:32. (For the record, I’m supposed to be at work by 8:30 at the latest.)

After calling my boss to let her know I’d overslept, I got dressed and went out to the brightly-lit living room to put on my makeup. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a leafy green abomination of nature clinging to one of my pretty sheer curtains. I froze. If you know anything about me, you know that I am absolutely terrified of bugs, especially 3″ -long kissing cousins of a Biblical plague (read: locusts).

After about five minutes of staring at the katydid and wishing it would somehow spontaneously combust in a way that wouldn’t damage the curtain, I realized I was going to have to do something. I slipped on the first pair of shoes I could find (I didn’t want to step on it with my bare feet if it landed on the floor). Then I checked the cabinet under my sink for any chemical that might kill the bug, finally settling on a can of oven cleaner, mostly because its label contained more hazard warnings than any of the other cleaners I had on hand. I patted myself on the back for not having made the switch to those all-natural Green Works cleaning products; I knew instinctively that it would take some no-kidding, for-real, skull-and-crossbones-type shit to take this bug down. Armed with a wad of paper towels and my can of oven poison, I crept back into the living room.

The katydid was still there, just sort of chilling out. For a fleeting second, I felt bad for what I was about to do. I wondered if there was a way I could just capture it and release it onto the front porch, where it could live out its little katydid life until it got eaten by a bird or a cat or something. After all, who was I to interfere with the circle of life?

Then the big twitched a little bit. I screamed and let loose a torrent of swear words and oven cleaner until the twitching stopped. It was still clinging to my curtain, but I was pretty sure it was very quickly expiring. I pried it off of the curtains with the paper towels, wrapped it up, and then smooshed it between my hands to make sure it was dead.

I’d wasted almost ten minutes doing this, so I didn’t have time to finish putting on my makeup. I grabbed my purse and ID badge and headed out the door. On the way, I called one of the women in my office to regale her with the tale of my triumph over the katydid. Then I called my mom. Then I called my old roommate. By the time I got to work, I was feeling about ten feet tall. After sitting down at my desk and logging into my computer, I happened to glance down at my feet, and I realized that the shoes I’d slipped on to avoid getting squashed bug on my feet don’t even remotely match what I’m wearing today.

We’ll call it even, you six-legged bastard.