stuffs are traditionally meant to leave the stuffter with a great sense of accomplishment and victory as the feces is vanquished and the colon relaxes after the great struggle. I wish I could say I was having a stuff so perfect as this, but frankly, my bowel movement was mundane and far from the ideal. Although not diarrhea, it felt the similar coming out, save for the lack of splashing in the porcelain throne and burning in the inner buttocks. Each pellet had to be unceremoniously squeezed out, leaving a depressing pile of small stuffs at the mouth of the S-bend, and no sense of victory. This normally would have been my only gripe, if not for the brutal struggle that was to come.
Pentatomidae, more commonly known as stinkbugs, are pests likely of Asian origin akin to an insect terrorist group. The only issue with their terrorist group is that no one knows what their agenda is because they are insects and cannot communicate with humans. Thus, they invade homes and just mill around, frightening proud, patriotic Americans with their gross little legs and alien demeanor. Indeed, one of the most chilling aspects of the pentatomidae is its erratic behavior and enigmatic processes of thought. Only an expert may make conjecture about what a stinkbug decide to do at any given moment.
I fancied myself an expert before the battle. After defeating marauding forces countless times since the appearance of the main stinkbug incursion force some two years ago, I believed that I had seen it all when it came to defeating their kind. But during my disappointing stuff on the 26th of May, 2014, I encountered a new breed of purpose-bred war pentatomidae.
Staring at the crack at the base of the bathroom door, it took a moment to register what I was damned to behold. Ruthlessly and purposefully, an average sized stinkbug crawled under the crack and up the inside of the door. Its legs were in lock-step precision, and it moved with a determination not often seen in an insect of their ilk. I did a quick, thorough wipe of my buttocks, washed my hands, and procured a small, purple cup from the cupboard, an eye on the target throughout. It came to stop about half way up the door, just on the top of one of the beveled panels. I would have greatly preferred it had stopped on a flat portion of the door for easier containment without the word of him taking flight, but I assumed the capture position undeterred. I slowly crouched beside the insect, and cautiously raised the cup. I help my breath, and slammed the cup over the bug. I thought I had garnered an easy victory, but I sensed that he meant to attempt an airborne escape out the small opening formed because of his position on the bevel. Panic rising, I scraped the cup down to keep him flush with the door. With a bone-chilling, delicate little cracking noise, three of the legs on his right side simultaneously sever. Shocked by my error, I lifted the cup and provided an opening for the assailing pentatomidae to fall to the ground. Truly an insect of a special breed, he kept on flailing and eventually garnered enough motor prowess to move out into the hallway. This would not be the simple operation I thought.
TBC
