Things That Make Me Scream!!!!

I walk into the bathroom to, you know, use the facilities, and I end up screaming! I can’t stop myself – it’s an automatic reaction.

Why did I scream, you ask? Because of what I saw on the floor.


I seem to do this a lot. I walk into the kitchen, I see geckos, I scream. I walk into the kitchen and see a stream of ants waltzing down the wall from the window to the sink, I scream. I see big huge unbelievably huge flying things, I scream.

Like on February 27th. Okay, so I didn’t do a blog entry about it that day. So sue me. But I took pictures, and that’s what really counts.

This flying thing flew in the front door and buzzed around a bit, then headed for the window. Somehow, it missed the open upper windows and instead, banged its little head into the closed lower ones.

I shouldn’t really say little. Compared to the rest of the insect kingdom, its head ain’t small.

And when I say it buzzed in, I really mean it buzzed in sounding like a chainsaw while I cowered in fear on the couch, hoping it wouldn’t notice me and decide to have a feast.

I have no idea if this bug eats humans, whole or in part, or what its preferred meal is, but I ain’t takin’ no chances. Ya hear me?

So it bangs its head on the window and can’t figure out why it can’t get out. It buzzes up and down, up and down, then sideways, over and over and over. It takes a few rest breaks, then tries again. A few times, I think “Yeah! It’s nearly got it! It’ll make a run for it fer sher!” But it doesn’t. It misses the open window by inches.


It keeps on buzzing and buzzing and buzzing, and even Oberon, who’s several thousand times this bugs size – not because the bug is so small, but because Oberon is that much of a pig – is scared of it. Usually, he’ll play with the cockroaches, spiders, flies, whatever other moving objects he sees that he takes a fancy to, including the broom when I’m sweeping the floors – I never claimed Oberon was smart – but this one? Nah.

He watches from a safe distance. Or what his brain thinks is a safe distance, anyway.

After an hour or so, I have to leave, and I’m hoping that the flying thing – and no, I don’t know what it’s called, unless we want to call it Mutantly Huge Odd Looking Fly – won’t be home when I get back.

Thank heavens. It wasn’t.


Author: LMAshton
Howdy! I'm a beginner artist, hobbyist photographer, kitchen witch, wanderer by nature, and hermit introvert. This is my blog feed. You can find my fediverse posts at

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