I will defeat you, I am a big girl now and I will win. Just like the last one, I had amazed myself with my resolution, only minor hesitation, which is understandable, but I was ultimately triumphant. Was this a sign, an ushering into adulthood. Would I now also be able to confront bodily fluids spewed by children and animals without adding my own contribution to the mess, would I start sending thank you notes of my own volition and speak in new social situations without inhibition. The truth of the matter, I had no mother or boyfriend to run to, hands clutching my face, emitting a whimper, and this creature would not be permitted to roam free. I came towards you with my tools of capture poised, and then you moved, oh, how grotesquely you move. So swift and unexpectedly for your girth, and that awful clicking noise as you scuttle along, your twig like legs rustling. My body chooses flight over fight as I leap off the bed. My face contorts in an expression of repulsion and terror as a sound between a scream and a moan pours out of my mouth. How is it possible, how can you evoke such feelings of panic and paralysis. We have built these structures in which you roam, glasses to trap you, doors to keep you out, toxins to inflict mass genocide and yet you persist. That is your legacy, you are unconquerable. You have invaded our constructs, designed to bring us out of nature, to remind us of nature’s resoluteness, unavoidability. When we see your dark mass scurry across the floor, the wall, the ceiling, gravity is no obstacle for you, we recoil with revulsion and hatred. Out, out, you’re not welcome here, how dare you appear unannounced, show me where you came in, did you bring any cohorts? Don’t you realize this is not how we behave in our society? I would like to teach you some of our social norms, but I’m afraid your presence disgusts me so. I’m sure there are far filthier places than mine you can reside, unnoticed and unconfronted. Perhaps a monestary is your safest option. But I’m sorry to say, we can’t coexist, I have no interest in an antennied metamorphosis. As I make my second, third attempt, my heart pounding, I want to break down, I can’t do it, but I must. I chase you about, your senses premeditate my movements. I trap you in a corner, it’ll soon be over. Oh shit, you can fly, a secret weapon in your arsenal. But wait, I have one too. As I spray you with poison I expect to hear screams. The victory is mine, let me hang you drawn and quartered, a warning to all. Yet, as I tuck in to sleep, the scuttles still haunt me of your twiggy little feet.
An Unwelcome Guest