It has been almost a year since I killed their army and thrawted their plans for world domination. Bitter and revengeful, they plot again…
Let me backtrack. Some of you may remember a particular incident last summer where I left for vacation and returned to find that and moths (literally) took over my room.
For those of you who haven’t heard this disgusting tale, well.. I’d love to tell it, but alas, my mother reads my blog. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to have your own daughter tell the story—in public no less—about how she left food and garbage in her room for two weeks and came home to find that her bedroom no longer belonged to her, but to an entire army of lepidopterans?
In any case, this entry is not about how the moths kicked me out of my own bedroom that summer and forced me to sleep on the couch, nor is it about how I gutted everything in my room out into my backyard and got dressed out there for two months.
It isn’t even about how I eventually get tired of sleeping on the couch while the moths had my bed, nor is it about that triumphant day towards the closing of summer where I got on my double-layer gloves, goggles and mask and marched into the battleground (aka my bedroom) armed with clorox beach wipes, a towel to whip the moths, a broom to kill the larvae on my ceiling, and a dust pan to collect their disgusting little bodies. Nope, this entry is definitely not about that.
On the contrary, this entry is about how they are at it again.
… Only this time, bigger.
I should have known the moths, bitter and revengeful, would plot again. It is my general understanding that all insects—moths especially—are out to get me. If I could understand moth-speak, I would have heard the distinct “we’re gonna geeeeetcha!” screech from that asshole of a moth who flew directly into my ear last week. Or maybe I would have heard a delighted “OWNED, bitch!” from that moth that jumped on my back a couple days ago.
Even without the language, the sudden appearance of moths and the warming of the earth in anticipation for summer leaves hints about as subtle as a brick to the forehead:
They are going to try to strike again.
Two nights ago a medium-sized moth flew into my room. He wasn’t as big as some, but he was definitely bigger than the average household moth. Being all-knowing and self-taught in the education on moth conspiracy, I happen to know that the bigger the moth, the higher its ranking in the Coalition of Moths Against Chanel army. This moth was a junior officer.
Like all moths, he was temporarily blinded by the light of my room in comparison to the darkness outside. I used this to my advantage and grabbed a towel in preparation for battle. Once he’d calmed down a bit, he decided to land somewhere. This somewhere happened to be my pillow. MY PILLOW.
Outraged but inwardly grateful he was going down easy, I gingerly grabbed the opposite edge of the pillow and crept towards the window. I threw open the window and shook the pillow outside. He refused to let go. So I shook the pillow some more.. And more.. And more.
Fortunately, he finally let go and flew off my pillow. Unfortunately, his direction of flight was straight back into my room again.
Frustrated now, I reached for my previously discarded towel and prepared for battle once again. It was showtime. I swung, he fluttered. I swung some more, he fluttered some more. Somewhere in this chain of actions, the moth flew near my speakers. I swung hard, hopping this would be the final blow—and then it happened.
In the midst of my swinging of my towel, I tipped one of my speakers. The tipped speaker hit the iron, which fell and hit my Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse figurine, which fell to the floor and in its fall, broke Minnie’s hand.
I stared at the scene before me, sucking in a deep breath. Rage was building up inside of me. He broke my disney figurine. If I could understand moth-speak, I would have heard this moth beg for it’s life. He knew what he had done and now he knew he was going to DIE. No more mercy. No last wishes. One second passed, two seconds passed, three sec—
“YOU… LITTLE… ASSHOLE! You *BLEEEEEEEP*-ING MOTH! I’m going to *BLEEP*-ING KILL YOU!”
Needless to say, the moths are currently mourning one less member.
The moths: 0
The Coalition of Moths Against Chanel were probably outraged over the latest death of their junior officer. So outraged, in fact, that they decided to start monitoring me more closely. I know this for a fact. I can sense it.
They sent a higher ranking officer into my bedroom last night. He was a senior officer by the looks of it—He was huge. And brown. And disgusting. He had big, round black eyes that clearly said, “I’m going to suck out your soul in your sleep, poppet!” Clearly the things nightmares are made out of.
He flew into my room while I was in the middle of changing. Surprised, I screamed and ran out of the room without a shirt. Also suprised, he flew into the lightbulb, blinded himself, and then started bouncing off the walls. I closed the door behind me, leaving only a 1 inch gap to monitor him and prayed he wouldn’t blindly fly into that gap and consequently, into my eyes, nose or god forbid, mouth.
We started playing hide-and-seek. Have you ever played hide-and-seek with a moth roughly the size of your palm? Well, let me give you some advice if you haven’t: DON’T.
When there was no activity in the room for a bit, I’d creep into the room and look to see where he’d landed. Just when I was about to give up and crawl into bed, he’d fly out and scream “BOO!”, at which point I would scream and run out of the room, hiding behind the partial-closed door and monitoring him through the crack. He’d bounce off the walls a couple times before settling down. Repeat this process five times and you have a detailed log of what I did for the greater part of 11PM last night.
I wish I could have told you I killed him, but the truth is, I couldn’t. He was too big. Questions arose in my mind, questions like:
- Do moths have blood in them? If I squashed him, would there be blood spatter?
- What if I only half-killed him? Could I finish off a handicapped moth?
- What would I use to kill a moth that size? A shoe?
- How could I kill a moth that size?
- And most importantly: How would I dispose of the body?
So he got away in one piece. Call me crazy, but as he flew out my window I swear I heard him hiss, “This is not over yet, girl.”
And so it isn’t.