When bugs mouth off, it’s pretty gross
Warning: The following column is rated PG-13 (Pretty Gross to Anyone Older Than 13.)
Seriously. If discussing human interaction with large insects gives you the heebie-jeebies, maybe you'd better toddle off to the Sports section or work on the Sudoku puzzle.
Living in the tropics means living with all manner of creepy crawlies. It's a jungle out there. And sometimes in there, too. When there's so much space to play outside in Hawaii, why do certain insects insist on coming indoors? It's not bad enough that they want to be in your house, they want to be in the same room with you, preferably on your face.
I try to imagine living in a world where beasts 100 times bigger than me are lumbering around. I'd try to avoid them. If I accidentally found myself inside their place of abode, I'd at least try to hide behind the couch. But in Hawaii, bugs aren't impressed by our size. Some are like flying Jehovah's Witnesses, pounding on the front door and yelling, "Lucy! I'm home!"
This time of year, when it's hot and dry, some outdoor roaches seem to like it better hanging out inside. They particularly like the fact that I keep a water jug next to my bed. They get thirsty, too, apparently. As I reported a few years go, one night I reached for my water jug in the darkness and went to take a swig right at the same a medium sized cockroach had the same idea. I immediately knew it wasn't water in my mouth because it had legs. So I spat him out and turned on the lamp. He was sitting on the rug, looking dazed and a little disgusted. I was thinking, "My god, that disgusting creature WAS IN MY MOUTH!" And he was looking up at me thinking, "Yech! I was IN HIS MOUTH!" I then put him out of his misery with a blast from my Crossman air pistol. (It's more sporting to kill a roach with a blast of air than with a rubber slipper. And more fun.)
Anyway, since then I've been careful to use a water jug that has only a small slit in the top to drink through. Apparently not small enough. A few nights ago, I wake up and go to take a drink and again I feel something other than water in my mouth. This time the little bugger had actually gotten in the jug and apparently was enjoying a moonlight swim. I eject him across the room as I did his predecessor and he looks at me with that dejected look roaches seem to get when they are spat across a room. I heard some snickering near the ceiling fan. I think a gecko was getting a kick out of the proceedings.
The latest insect interloper was just a little guy, about the size of a nickel. A nickel with wings, antennae and legs. But as bugs go, he wasn't that creepy. He looked kind of miserable. I actually felt a little bad for him when I introduced him to Mr. Crossman. I think I either have to stop taking water to bed or leave a jug out in the yard so the outdoor bugs stay outdoors.
Buy Charles Memminger's hilarious new book, "Hey, Waiter, There's An Umbrella In My Drink!" at island book stores or online
at any book retailer. E-mail him at firstname.lastname@example.org