I am not the b ravest oke around when it comes to creepy-crawlies. I can remember at about age 8 getting my 3-year old sister to come and get the insects out of my room before I went to sleep. I have shat myself with regards to beetles, cockroaches, snakes, spiders, earwigs, over-sized moths. I turn into a complete screaming pathetic idol of uselessness whenever I come across one.
But there is nothing in the world - and I include famines, earthquakes and cluster bombs - as a crawling, evil, snarling, over-sized piece of rotten Parktown Prawn. These things are so ugly, but so tough that whatever wiped the dinosaurs out still couldn't finish them off. They are indestructible. DOOM and Raid just get them stoned, and then they care even less about eating me and infecting me with their horribleness.
And so I was sitting on the verandah last night sipping a cuppa with the folks when I lookjed behind me after I heard a noise (probably those bloodthirsty jaws snapping together) and saw one of the filthy buggers just behind my chair. I didn't move as much as leap the other side of the table with a chihauhau-like yelp for help.
I stood there whimpering while Wonderwoman (my mother) showed the guts not seen since Dunkirk in removing the enemy with a bowl and a piece of paper. With eyes focussed like Jean Reno in The Professional, she courageously went for the bugger, scooped him up with a deft flick of her hand - this while I was enduring a seizure in the corner, praying to God, Jaweh and Allah for my mother's protection - and plopped him over the wall. (I wanted it dead, but nothing kills them.)
Andnow, tonight, for retribtion, I am sure he is hiding in one of my shoes or something, ready to infect me with poison which will make me edible for him and his hungry chums.