The Moth.

I know, dramatic title, right? You’re already interested.

Earlier this evening, one of the most traumatising experiences of my life went down in my living room.

I was minding my own business in the kitchen, preparing delicious food that would wind up in my belly in the very near future. Suddenly, I heard Jerome doing that weird chattering sound that cats make when they see prey. I ignored it. Within a few moments, I heard Leona and Bart joining in. I was now sure that ignoring the problem wouldn’t make it go away. So I went to investigate.

Expecting nothing out of the ordinary, I just casually entered my living room, only to find a fucking moth the size of my hand fleeting about the living room. It was angry, it was loud, and I’m pretty sure it was on a quest for blood. So, being the brave girl that I am, I screamed and ran back into the kitchen.

I immediately regretted that decision. You see, I watch NatGeo and Animal Planet and shit. I know quite a lot about animals, including useless random facts that won’t help me in situations like the one I was currently facing. I also know that buggy things in general, are attracted to light. And the living room was darkish. The kitchen, however, was relatively brighter (and smelled delicious). I therefore had only a few moments before the insectosaurus would respond to this difference in the light gradient and come find me, attack me, and kill me for food.

So, realising my mistake, I cowered under the safety of the kitchen table. Surely the demon bird/bat/moth couldn’t get me there. Now I had time to think about my options. First I thought I’d look for some heavy-duty roach-killer spray, and just douse the entire ground floor of my house in it. But then I thought about the cats and the tasty food I was preparing, so I immediately discarded that option. Then I thought I’d just grab a shoe or a rolled-up newspaper or a magazine or something, and swat it. But then I reconsidered the size of the monster, and I didn’t want to hear the splat and clean up a bucket-full of guts. So again, I disregarded that option. Finally, I thought back to my animal programmes and I was all, “WWDAD? What would David Attenborough do?” Surely he wouldn’t kill the beast, rather, he’d find a way to safely remove it from his immediate surroundings.

Very good. Now I had to come up with a plan. I grabbed a pot and fashioned a helmet. I also grabbed a spatula, in case I would be faced with one-on-one combat. I then turned on extra lights in the kitchen to ensure maximum brightness and crawled out into the unknown.

I made it to the hallway.

Lights off.

Continued crawling,

ever alert,

ever vigilant,

ever cautious.

I made it behind enemy lines. The living room. The angry mutant was buzzing around the ceiling, creating sounds louder than a fighter plane. In real life it was probably closer to the sound of an electric pencil sharpener, but my heightened senses may have warped my perception of hearing. Anyway, I was still slowly and silently stalking my prey, and finally managed to sneak by unnoticed, to the other side of the living room. Once there, I nimbly reached up with my spatula, and switched off the lights. The entire ground floor was now dark, with the exception of the kitchen.

In retrospect, I should have turned off all the lights in the kitchen and done it the other way around, but I tend to think irrationally when my adrenaline levels get high, so… yeah. Just ignore that, okay?

I swiftly army-crawled my way back to the kitchen, to prepare for stage two of the ambush.

My plan was brilliant and cunning. I would wait for the massive birdbug in the corner near the dishwasher. Once it approached the bright kitchen and started attacking the lights, I would leap up with my spatula and tease it into a trap-like contraption that I built out of tupperware, tape, and kitchen utensils. Once captured, I would free the demon outside, unharmed, and far away from my house. Such a perfect plan! All I had to do was wait.

So I waited.

And waited.

And… waited.

Slightly annoyed at the possibility of not being able to use my tupperware trap, I stood up to look for it.

pling!

What? It just flew into my pot-helmet! It was actually initiating an epic battle, which proceeded right then and there in the kitchen. Mind you, I didn’t want moth-guts in my food though, so I had to be smart. Spatula in one hand, swatting frantically, I eventually managed to (and I kid you not) hit the thing into the trap, causing it to fall shut. It was exactly like a Tom & Jerry cartoon. And I won.

Pleased at my victory, I went to examine my catch. It was hairy, large, and hideous. But then, an amazing thing happened. It spread its wings, as if to curtsy and acknowledge the excellent fight we just had, and underneath the gruesomeness, the moth was stunningly beautiful! It was only then that I even remembered how closely related butterflies and moths are (one main difference being, of course, that butterflies flap their wings gracefully and quietly, not like a fucking jackhammer). Nevertheless, I felt a pang of guilt for ever being so frightened of this surprisingly peaceful and gorgeous creature.

Careful not to damage anything, I slowly carried the contraption to the terrace, where I released my captive. I was slightly sad by this point to see it go, but I wiped away the single tear that slid down the side of my face and swallowed my cry. “Goodbye, young warrior,” I whispered into the night.

Retreating back into my house, reminiscing on the events that just occured, I realised something.

Never battle a giant moth when you have food on the stove because chances are, it’ll burn.

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8 Responses to “The Moth.”

  1. Tene Says:

    HAHAHAHA THIS MAY BE YOUR BEST POST YET. I totes almost didn’t believe you till I saw the photo that shit’s CRAY CRAY WTF. Love you.

  2. Mohammed Al Qemzi Says:

    HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!
    IS THAT AN ATLAS MOTH?! O_O

  3. Biological D. Says:

    ha ha
    I agree with Tene.
    this is, as of yet, one of your best

  4. Pelzina's relative Says:

    OMG… you are one sick little girl!!! This poor creature has been in our house before. Ask Julie; she was there. It must have come back to visit you!!!

  5. Nat Says:

    This is totally awesome story. I couldn’t stop laughing. I have moth battles all the time in my house, always trying to come up with new and better ways to slay the beasts. My family thinks I’m insane. Now I see I’m not the only one that plots out a moth attack with as many potentially useful household items as I can find—like it’s World War III. Thanks for the great post!

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