Suddenly, I felt a tickle on my chest. I glanced down, and saw a centipede crawling down my cleavage.
Screaming, I reached my finger down, and flicked it out onto the bed.
And then I just kept screaming.
We have a centipede problem. We kill 2-4 per week. They aren't very big, and they mostly hang out on our ceilings.
As far as pests go, they aren't so bad. They have no interest in food, and they kill other pests. Spiders, ants- we never have to worry about those.
But have you ever watched a centipede move? The slithery sway of its body as its dozens of legs take it across a room is almost hypnotizing.
....And their new interest in female anatomy.
Ugh, I'm still shaking.
When I say "we" kill them, I mostly mean Kurt. The juicy little mark it leaves on the wall when you catch them, IF you catch them, is too much for me. And when you miss the first time, they take off so fast you're lucky to get a second shot.
Yeah. I let Kurt take on that manly role.
So tonight when I looked down and saw one crawling down between my boobs, my screams brought the manly 'Pede Hunter running. He scooped it off the bed between his tissue-covered fingers, and as I gasped out an explanation, "It.was.on.my.cleavage!!" He calmly squeezed the life out of it.
Then he hugged me tightly and said "Well, I can't blame it."
After smacking his shoulder, I asked for a lighter so I could burn my cleavage off. It seemed like the best option.
I can still feel it crawling on me.
...I don't think I will ever sleep in my bed again.