I was outside reading earlier, and there was a flock of June bugs. A flock, I say! At first there was only one, and then he had idiotically maneuvered himself onto his back (as June bugs are idiotically apt to do), and so that was fine. I was fine with the June bug lying in his semi-prone position, because I knew exactly where he was. And then there were two, and eventually they were both (idiotically) on their backs, and then it was fine then, too. But then three more came by, and they all had a June bug party, mocking me at every turn, flying just close enough to me to make me almost freak out, and then buzzing their disgusting fat bodies back to the light bulb. Speaking of which, what is it that makes bugs fly into the light like that? I like to think it's like that scene in A Bug's Life.
[two mosquitoes fly near a bug zapper; one flies towards it, as if in a trance]
Mosquito #1: Larry, no! Don't look at the light!
Mosquito #2: [entranced] I-can't-help-it. It's-so-beautiful.
[Larry gets zapped, falls]
Anyway, I thought it would be wise from now on to read (read: smoke) in the garage with the door open from now on, at least when the puppy is already asleep. But when I went out there a few minutes ago, the June bug party decided to join me there, too! At least in the garage, there is more space for them to buzz around, and you'd think that would mean they would harass me less. Not so! They harass me equally as much out there. I swear, I'm their entertainment. This one June bug, he flew perilously close to my head, and I smacked him with my book. I didn't mean to smack him hard, I just wanted to re-direct him, maybe make him think about where he was flying and whether using me for his entertainment was really worth it. Imagine my horror when I appeared to have wounded the disgusting bug, and it sat on the cement floor of the garage with one wing askew.
I cry fairly easily, but I'm able to (barely) hold it back when it's a June bug.
I watched it for a few minutes. I warned it that it better get it's act together and stop faking it if it didn't want to be put out of it's misery. I even tapped his wing back into place because I wasn't sure if it was just, I don't know, out of joint or something. I gave him more chances than most people would have given a June bug, but in the end, he was too far gone.
So I smooshed him with the spine of my book.