No amount of whining or crying does any good. It refuses to listen and crawl out the window. He won't budge, and neither will the boyfriend. Clinton isn't about to come over at midnight just to kill a "bug". I am on my own, with only the mom's voice of hysterical laughter to comfort me. I have to act. I reach for the mosquito repellent and I spray. I suspect that the cause of death is from drowning rather than poison. It doesn't matter. I pick it up with a bigger wad of paper towel than is necessary and huck it out the four story window. I hope that the fall finishes the job. I don't care that I just littered. I'm proud of my bravery.
What is this thing you may ask? I do not know. I call it a shiver bug. Most insects don't bother me-even spiders. I'm find pleasure in cohabitation among God's many creatures-most of God's many creatures. But this guy. He's a shiver bug. He makes the skin behind my ears go tight and the muscles in my lower back spasm... Ewie ewie ewe.