E is for earwig or Ewww:



A fool proof method to protect against earwigs

The two musketeers had returned slightly worse for the wear, staggering and slurring their words even worse than I did when channelling the Neanderthal. It was payback time and the revenge would be sweet. I had called an entomologist who was kind enough to bring along two of the larger species of earwigs. I can already hear you all screaming: “Ewww!”
I waited for the terrible two to be seated comfortably before I yanked out the plastic display cases and unceremoniously dumped them in their laps. Sir Laughalot took one look at the thing, rolled his eyes upwards and fell to the floor. He was out cold! The Muse was doing a strange bippety bop before landing feet first on the nearest sofa. Said sofa collapsed with a sad wheeze under her weight. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, suddenly more sober than a Harry Potter fan at a Hogwart’s Convention. When the dust of the sofa’s demise cleared enough for me to see, she was tearing at her beehive and clothes in a haphazard manner.
‘Get the thing off me NOW!”
“It’s dead, in a display case and at least a metre away,” I answered calmly.
“I don’t care, get it off me!”
I bent to pick up the hapless earwig and with a smirk said: “They climb into your ears when you are asleep, you know. I was thinking that I could keep one in a dark corner of my brain; it would be right at home among the weird and wonderful things already there.”
“Don’t. You. Dare. I will leave and whoosh there would go your writing ability,” she said glaring at me. She snapped her fingers for good measure.

“Whoosh,” she said menacingly.

A bit of chocolate and an earwig?


4 responses »

  1. Reminds me of the uninvited guests who would crash our love fests for our favourite performers when I was a kid. The pictures plastered up on the garage side of the fireplace was our own little shrine to Bobby Sherman, Mark Lester, Jack Wild, David Cassidy and other swoon worthy singers and actors of our day. The earwigs added the dancing as we noticed them starting to get close enough to crawl up on us.

  2. I had never seen or heard of an earwig until I was 31 years old and moved to a new town where they were thick as New York City rats. At least they seems that way to me. I was told the story of them climbing into your ears while you sleep by someone I trusted, and once found one in my bedside glass of water. I have been traumatized ever since!

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