Thursday, May 30, 2013

I'll Have You Itching by the End of This Post

So right, my story.

If you can't handle bugs, now would be the time to click away and go somewhere else and look at pictures of fluffy puppies or something.

Here, here's a fluffy puppy:

Click 'Read More' to read the story, if you think you can do it. Everyone else just spend about three minutes staring at the fluffy puppy.

So anyway, Tuesday I took the dog for a walk. We wandered around the lake over at Furman University, but after a couple of miles I just wasn't really feeling it, so I gave up and we came back. I showered, changed clothes, all the fun stuff.

A couple of hours later, I am sitting at the computer. I have a nervous habit of scratching at my scalp occasionally. I think we've discussed my many and varied nervous habits before. So I go to scratch at my scalp, and there's... something on my head. Weird.

I managed to pull off whatever it is, and then I realize -

those are tiny legs moving.

The thing I just pulled off my head has legs.

Legs that are moving.

I shrieked and flung the tiny thing into a glass of water, because it made sense at the time. Then I shrieked again.

It was a tick.

There was a tick on my head.

I shrieked for several more minutes (which causes absolutely nothing to change, but it sure felt good), while both animals stared at me in affectionate bafflement, while trying to decide what to do with the tick. As far as I can tell, the tick itself was mostly just enjoying its unexpected dip in the pool.

 To be honest, the noises I made have me wondering why the neighbors didn't call the cops, because I'm fairly sure it sounded like a really prolonged murder going on in my house. Maybe they think I took up Alaskan throat-singing or something.

You know what, that's not fair. Go here and see some serious throat-singing, because it is actually really freaking cool.

I panicked. I managed to light our candle-lighter-thing, but I couldn't convince myself to actually approach him enough to dump him out of the water glass. I think I barely touched him with the flame and gave him a quick dunk in my nail-polish remover before flushing him straight to Toilet Hell.

He probably wasn't dead. I probably just gave my injured little bug buddy a slightly toasty roller-coaster ride to wherever our sewage comes out. And removed his totally-last-season manicure. I hope he enjoyed it.

I checked the dog and cat over pretty thoroughly and saw no sign of any more on either of them. This was only vaguely reassuring, because I made the mistake of asking Professor Google about ticks and I discovered there is a species of tick that infests houses. The dog might have brought one of them into the house. It might have jumped off fo him to go build a happy little cabin in our floor boards and then we'd end up having to move out like at the end of Poltergeist, only instead of ghosts it was just be a crowd of little waving legs trying to pull our imaginary children into the closet.

I don't even know any psychic mediums who can talk to ticks! We'd be doomed!

I spent the rest of the day staring at the dog like he was poisonous. Dogs find this method of dealing with problems very confusing.

The cat gives the dog that look all day anyway, so I think she was mostly confident that I had finally joined Team Hate the Dog. She seems to think that we didn't actually bring the dog home, he just appeared as if by some malevolent magic and the three of us are sort of stuck with him.

The only good thing Professor Google told me about the tick was that he most likely hadn't bitten me yet, since he was flat and all of him came away easily. So there's that.

 Then again, Professor Google also told me what had most likely happened is that the tick had brushed off the dog onto my lower body - my legs or something - and then crawled up my shirt until he found my head and I'm going to scream again if I keep typing.

The moral of the story is that Professor Google is my worst enemy and my best friend, all at once. And also that writing about bugs is the quickest way to make your entire body start itching all at once.

I think I need a shower now.

 Don't you kind of feel like you need one, too?

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