Friday, August 17, 2007

The Hundred-Legs War

The maid just stuck her head in and said "We have a problem."

Please don't let it involve cucarachas, I thought. What is it?

"Ciempiés."

I stare blankly. She gestures frantically. I follow her out to the patio and there, climbing up the wall, is a huge, ugly centipede, its legs writhing in a hundred directions at once. It's hard to tell which one of us dislikes creepy-crawly things more, but I'm guessing it's me. "I'm not touching it," she says. "Those things sting worse than scorpions."

Bullshit, I thought, but it turns out to be true. Several minutes of slapstick ensue, as I swing and miss with the sole of a running shoe, the vermin makes a break for it, and Yessi backs me up with a broom and screaming sound effects. In the end, our opposable thumbs and four-pound brains win out, but now whenever I feel an itch on my ankle I starting trying to shake phantom centipedes out of my pantleg. I might have to bring in some tarantulas to get rid of them. Then we'll get some snakes to eat the tarantulas. Finally, a mongoose or two to finish off the cobras, and we're ready for winter.

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

Does "the maid" have a name, you pompous wussbag?

Burro Hall said...

Yessi. As stated in the second sentence of the second paragraph, shit-for-brains.

Any other questions, dumbass?

Anonymous said...

Does "the gardner" have a name?

Anonymous said...

How about "dumbass" and
shit-for-brains"? They have names, too, you know, smart guy.

Burro Hall said...

No. All her life, whenever she refers to herself, she just points at her heart.

Got that, anonymous? (If that really is your name.)

Burro Hall said...

Well, they share one name: Francis V. Corrigan.

Anonymous said...

You'll rue the day, Koughan. You'll rue it.

Josh said...

Nothing like some nice Frank-on-Frank crime.

Burro Hall said...

It's actually how we keep in touch.