Heroics and Bugs

You know that moment when you're going along your day, minding your own business, unconcerned with what's currently flying in the air, a million miles a second at your unprotected head?  Yeah. I did know that moment.  Past tense: Did.

But now I'm a hero.  Want to know why?  No, no, save your praise, tears, and roses.  I'm just like you, fellow Internet-users.  But...better. Yes, better. More heroic. Why? Because. As I was sitting here, blogging fiendishly away (alright I was eating an apple, same difference.) doing my thing, I see this shadow, on the wall, to my right.  So, naturally, I turn around and what should be hurling towards me with exponentially growing speed, but this HUGE winged creature.  It was probably the size of a...of a...quarter. With wings.  So it wasn't that large.  *Shrug*

I, of course, being brave, stare at it in fear and alarm, but do not scream.  That sort of behavior would be cowardly, and call me what you will--fierce bug slayer is a popular one I hear chanted nowadays--but you can't call me a coward. 

There I was.  Sitting in my swivelly chair.  Ready to die with honor. 
(Ok, just kidding. I was petrified, making promises to live a more fulfilled life if only the bug would just not kill me.)
 Anyway, I followed it with my eyes, watching as it turned course away from my glowering gaze probably because it was so terrified.  My heart was pumping blood, and probably that ham and cheese sandwich that I had for lunch, to all my facilities.  So in short I was sweating.  Seriously, this thing was a monster. I'm going to find a picture of it and post it on here: 

Pretty sure this is it.

Or a cousin of it.

So what do I do?  I wasn't sure if it was a wasp, or a blackjacket, or a demon, so I waited for it to land on the top of the window, and begin to start washing itself.

Is there anything more repulsive than watching a huge insect rub its legs against each other??

I crept to the wasp spray, hoping it wouldn't spot me. By this time all bravado was gone.  The bug knew it too. He was just washing his legs, all gloaty.  I hated him.

Clutching the bug spray to my chest, I waited.  He was still bathing.  Grotesquely shiny legs rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. I took off my high heels one at a time.  (I forgot to mention I was wearing stilettos.)  I set them on the ground.  Are you picturing this?  I slowly climbed on top of this convenient chair, poised, ready to strike.

As you all know, you only get one shot with wasp spray. If you miss the wasp, it flies away, irritated, stinger at the ready...deadly.  I held up the can.  He was still washing, daring me to make a move.

So I did.  Psssssss! came the wasp spray, hitting the monster square in the wings.  Down, down, down he fell onto the table under the table, then disappeared.  Wasp spray covered everything.  That little picture that they show on the bottle with a direct stream to the wasp is a lie.  So is twenty feet spraying diameter.  It barely made it 4.   But! It did the job.  Minus the fact that the glossy black flying thing disappeared somewhere and I don't know where.  Probably the depths of HELL WHERE IT BELONGS.

And that, citizens, is why I'm a hero.  Hold your applause. 
Ok. Don't hold it.  Bring on the roses and trophies and muscular men bearing gifts of chocolate and fried things.