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Esther Spurrill Jones. Powered by Blogger.
08 October 2015
I'm not following the prompt today because something happened to me last night that I just can't get out of my head, so I had to write about it.

Bug Misplaced

Taking a sip of ginger ale
Should not be a source for chilling tales.
Into my glass a beetle had slipped;
Heedless, I lifted it to my lips.
Instantly feeling something off,
Gagging and spitting, I gasped and coughed.
Twelve hours later, I still can taste
The awful awareness of bug misplaced.

These things are all over my house right now, and they're driving me crazy. Google tells me they're Boxelder bugs and they're generally harmless. But who wants bugs in their house—or in their food and drink?! For those wondering, I did spit it out and it was dead. I'm not sure if it drowned in my ginger ale or if I killed it.


5 comments:

The Enchantress said...

I know. It makes me Mad to see these creatures roaming around in the house

BTW Who could have thought it could make a Poem too :)

Janet Martin said...

O-o-o-o-o-h!!! no!!! I hope this poem was therapeutic. I think I'll check my glass just in case;-))

Rose Ketring said...

Oh Goodness! Growing up, we were often outnumbered by these little beasties. Hopefully its cousins learned a lesson vicariously :D

Mark said...

...and her kisses tasted like June...bug

Misty Fell said...

I've known similar horrors. On one occasion, a fly landed in my hot cocoa and died. I didn't notice until...ew.

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