Beetle

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

a thwarted kill

Yesterday, as is my habit after eating, I found me aimlessly strolling in the house, trying to walk off the roast chicken I’d had for lunch and checking the rooms for intruders. I may sound paranoid but, to me, security of the home is paramount. Prudence was sleeping upstairs and you could tell the kids were at school from the blissful peace and quiet that permeated the whole place. The only noise I could hear was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall and the regular hum of the fridge in the kitchen. I’d just finished my tour and was about to go take a shuteye when I saw this huge beetle lurking by the entrance door. Hairs stood on my nape. Now, I know I’m not squeamish or anything but I simply cannot abide those creepy crawlies with their multiple legs and black carapaces. Makes you wonder why God, in his infinite wisdom, created those abhorrent creatures. Without a second thought, I pounced on the stupid critter, intending to crush it to a pulp when, all of a sudden, little Mike’s yellow submarine toy hit me on the back of my head and Mother Mary (Prudence’s mother) yelled from the kitchen door:

“Let it be!”

I never got on well with the woman and I, for one, am sick and tired of her tirades about how all life is sacred on this earth. She then strode into the hall, bent down and wagged her finger at me and said in that irritating voice of hers that she uses when talking to little children:

“Bad boy! I told you once if I told you a thousand times not to mess up the place with dead insects. Go out now, shoo!”

I didn’t say a word. What’s the use? I tucked my tail between my hind legs and, head low, slunk out to the garden. 


Submitted: March 18, 2014

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