Look at the picture, at the look of sheer horror on my granddaughter’s face. This same little girl who watches episode after episode of Walking Dead, who thinks Day of the Dead is boring and bitched when Jaws died was simply traumatized over ... a stink bug.
In her defense, the initial attack was mild but it transformed into nothing less than a B horror flick.
Monday Madness, that’s what I call Monday’s because my toddler grand kids have a sleep over not only in my room, but my bed. They were doing their exercise via jumping on my bed when Violet screamed. This child didn't just cry a shrill shriek, it was deep, long and gurgling.
I could see them from my writing room and I called out, “What’s wrong?” my heart thumping thinking she really got hurt.
“Bug!” Violet cried.
I thought, ‘Really?’ she’s acting like this over a bug?’ We just watched the webepisodes of Walking Dead and she laughed at the zombies. So grabbing my phone to take a picture of her terror, I walked to them.
“Bug!” she pointed. After snapping a picture, I took a look. It wasn't just a bug, it was a stink bug.
“Oh that’s a stink bug,” I explained as if the toddlers would know.
“Oh, God, Nennie! Save me.” Yeah, seriously, that’s what she said.
Being ‘Great One’, I couldn't ignore my calling to be the hero. But Baby Frank, who doesn't really talk well, goes to speech, found his niche as well (I’m still accrediting the Avengers) he bravely held back his arm to Violet and said, clear as day, “Stay back. I’ll get Bug.”
He grabbed a shoe!
No! Wait. Don’t kill it.
He looked at me as if I were nuts and I explained. “It’s a stink bug. If you kill it, then everything will stink and we won’t be able to sleep.”
Pause. They stared at me. Did they understand? No. After a moment, Baby Frank’s hurled down the shoe and I stopped him in the nick of time. “Wait.” I tried again. “If we kill it, it will come back as a zombie and eat Nennie.”
Both kids glanced at me and backed off. What to do? I had been sipping on my bourbon so I went and got my plastic glass, downed the rest of the booze, grabbed an envelope, walked to the bug and scooped it in the glass. I carried it to my writing room window, opened it and let it out.
Violet applauded. “Oh thank you gweat one. Thank you.”
None too impressed, Baby Frank pointed to the same spot with a look that all but said, ‘yeah, your works not done’.
Damn it! Another one. Violet screamed. “Get it Nennie. Get it in you whiskey glass!”
“On it.” I swept up that bug, took it to the writing room window and set it free as well.
Not long after, they relaxed, but no sooner did they fall asleep, Violet awoke with a scream. “Bug! Big Stink bug!”
Are you kidding me, she’s having nightmares about Stink bugs? Not zombies but bugs. She was shaking, wouldn't go to sleep. She graveled out to me, “They’re … they’re .. coming.”
“Ok, baby, ok,” so as not to wake baby Frank, I took her into my writing room, made a little bed on the floor. She whimpered about them coming. I’m on the computer. Focused on work, I told her, “They’re not coming. Nennie got rid of them.”
Pat. Pat. Pat-pat-pat.
Violet shrieked! The ‘patting’ continued, loud and steady. Eyes wide, I shifted to my right, looked at my window and there was at least twenty stink bugs slamming against my window, trying to get in.
It indeed was like a zombie invasion of bugs. I figured they were pissed that I tossed out their buddies or, since I used a whiskey glass, they were trying to get to the party. In either case, they eventually gave up and moved on. But Violet was scarred for life.
Go figure, Walking Dead eating intestines doesn’t make her flinch but a stink bug …. Oh boy.