Yew!!

Facebook style. Facebook style.

There’s been a bit of a drama tonight with the earwigs. I just killed at least a dozen of them. I hardly ever kill anything but I hate earwigs. I swear to God everyone hates earwigs! 

Just the name is freaky and scary! Like they’re crawling through your hair into your ear with those big pincers! I think that really happened; I think I read it somewhere. 

I did it outside; I wouldn’t have done it indoors. Just to think of their smushed bodies on the bottom of my shoes on the floor right now is Yuck! I think I wiped it all off on the grass. I hope.

When I flicked over the black canvasy thing that covers our Weber, they scrambled out. It was like a jail break, with everybody scattering in different directions, but as fast as they scrambled I stomped on them with the toes of my McFasties. I went back at them if any were still alive and really dug into them until they couldn't move any more. That’s what killing’s about.

I wouldn’t have done it though--as much as they’ve always freaked me out--if they hadn’t been conclusively implicated in the decimation of our basil. That was the tipping point. 

Plus, who wants them breeding on the cover of your grill?

If I see them again, I’ll kill ‘em. 

They’re disgusting.

[After reading this, I realized it was so in the style my dear youngest daughter uses for her Facebook posts.]