Airbag Industries

Thirteenth.

I turned my head towards the kitchen where an odd, foreign sound starting to emanate from the kitchen. I thought maybe the cats had started some new version of their post dinner Battle Royale. Maybe, like world of tennis, they chose to take their nightly contests to a different surface but aside from the obvious growling, head batting, and fur tearing there was a fluttering noise that did not belong.

“Just a sec,” I said to the Skype window, “something’s going on.”

Walking into the kitchen I looked towards the sound, “Ah dammit are you kidding me!” and then muttered a few choice adult words.

“What is it?” the Skype window asked.

There on the tile—fluttering madly, trying to figure out where in the hell it was and how it might be able to put distance between itself and the large furry mammal creatures—was the largest, prehistoric bug I’ve ever seen. This bug was even bigger than the bright blue bug that landed on my cheek and then refused to die after I swatted it to the ground, and began repeatedly stepping on it while shrieking like a little girl. Each time it just shook off the attack and eventually flew away. At that point I thought for sure the apocalypse was just around the corner, I mean that thing could have had a leading role in Jurrasic Park it was so big and gnarly.

Never mind that we’re not supposed to have bugs in Orange County at all. This is God’s Country, we spray every year to kill off anything that’s not angelic or blonde. And yet, nonetheless, here was this giant prehistoric thing—scared, pissed and, for all I knew, chock full of some vile poison that I would soon be introduced to all because my pets were playing Turok out on the patio.

“The cats have brought in the biggest…”

“I don’t want to know,” the video image of the Rocket Scientist interrupted.

Looking back at video chat I replied, “Yeah, you don’t want to know. Hell, I don’t even want to know!”

I looked back and the bug was gone. The hairs on my neck shot up and I started to wonder how fast I could get to my Los Angeles Police Attack Maglite because, you know, that thing can stop bullets so I know it can kill bugs good and this thing needed to get got.

“I’ve got to go deal with this. I’ll try to call you back if you’re not already asleep.” And with that my once-a-day link to the Rocket Scientist was gone.

The house went silent save a few fluttering noises coming from a different location in the house. Somewhere, the possibly lethal giant insect was preparing for its counter attack, and I knew this fight was going to take more than a bunch of rolled-up toilet paper.