Live from: a public bathroom in the Lake of the Ozarks
Okay Reader, let’s get one thing straight. I am an optimist. Truly. I believe in Santa Claus. I love Twizzlers. I think all teenagers can be saved. But I also possess an incredible amount of anxiety and I am, at all times, thinking about the worst thing that could happen. If I have a spider bite, I am going to die from it. If my Hot IT Boyfriend™ doesn’t text me for one hour, he is dead. If my parents’ overweight, 16-year-old Pomeranian looks at me wrong, he is thinking about ripping my throat out and mere seconds away from acting on impulse, inevitably ending my life.
Existing within the confines of my own mind is getting, like, super exhausting.
So, what am I worried about today, you may ask? I will tell you, Sweet Reader, though I must warn you, the information I am about to share is disturbing.
Today, I fear the Assassin Bug.
Allow me to enlighten you.
I have yet to figure out how to insert an image in one of these posts (and I literally don’t want anyone to explain it to me. In fact, please don’t explain anything to me, ever), but let me tell you Reader, your precious near-sighted eyes could not bear the three-inch long hellhound that would grace your screen if I could.
Actually, I changed my mind. It’s probably fine. Just don’t wear glasses. I need a visual representation for my next few points, so you can check it out on Google images. Please do not proceed until you’ve viewed.
I needn’t tell you, Reader, how incredibly offensive this image is all by its lonesome. It looks like something out of a low-budget sci-fi movie in which one of these succubi lands on the narrow, empty streets of The Village and somewhere in the distance, a misunderstood alcoholic sheriff hears the impact and raises one eyebrow in suspicion. Now please consider that these bugs are a minimum of three inches long and I once found them reproducing mere feet away from where I lay my precious head on a silk pillowcase nightly. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the Assassin Bug’s bite is notorious for rivaling a snake bite in terms of pain. In fact, an article from BobVila.com writes, “these critters may attack and bite humans and animals, even if unprovoked, piercing the skin with their sharp beak.” Hold on, I’m going to need another paragraph for this.
There are two glaring issues with this sentiment, the first being that the bugs are called critters. Now, you city folk may not know this, but here in The Village, critter is a term reserved for organisms such as small rodents (see: field mouse) or even frogs, snakes…things of that nature. But an insect? A little guy with an exoskeleton? I am fully convinced that when Pandora opened that box or whatever, this little bastard jumped out and one thing led to the next and now cigarettes cause cancer.
For my second point, I’d like you to go back and reread Bob’s analysis of the so-called critter. Did something catch your eye? Perhaps the word beak? I’ve grown faint at the mere thought.
Now what is most disturbing, Reader, is not the existence of the Assassin Bug, or even the prospect that they have infiltrated The Village. Neigh, what I find most upsetting is that in my time in the Lake of the Ozarks I saw not one, not two, but FOUR Assassin Bugs. Four! In five days! If you are not from the Midwest, Reader, you may not know that the Lake of the Ozarks is a popular vacation destination, and for good reason. The water is warm. You can jet ski to a pool bar. French fries and mojitos are available nearly any hour of the day. However, you are likely to spend the majority of your time barefoot in that Target bikini you only bought because your best friend told you that neon teal is totally your color. Neon teal is no one’s color. You are, Reader, exposed. This brings me to my central thesis.
The Assassin Bug is closing in on us when we are at our most vulnerable—day drunk and partially naked.
I share with you, Reader, only to encourage you to keep your eyes peeled. Who knows what an insect with a beak is truly capable when released amongst the general populace. Vigilance is key if we want to make it to next summer.
XOXO
— The Village Idiot