Things That Make Me Die Inside, Vol. 5

Dear Mr. Centipede,

I have seen you crawling around the stairwell by my bedroom a couple of times now, and while you don't seem malicious in any way, you frighten the BEJEEZUS out of me and I wish you would go away. Please. Is this my punishment for killing your many-legged bretheren in the form of spiders, ants, mosquitoes, flies, and other centipedes? Oooh...pretend you didn't read that last one.

I admire the fact that you feast on flies, ants, and cockroaches, none of which we have in our apartment (though I doubt this is because you have taken residence in the hallway outside of my room; you see, I like to think that I keep a very clean house). And needless to say, I'm sure you are quite friendly. I read "James and the Giant Peach" a million years ago, and the centipede character was quite nice. Especially in the 1996 movie adaptation, when your species was well-played by Richard Dreyfuss. I love his newsboy cap and the cigar hanging jauntily out of his mouth. I think that if you were a claymation centipede hanging out in the hallway by my bedroom, I wouldn't mind so much. I would let you live in peach...I mean, peace. Haha. (Actually, I DO have a peach in the fridge right now that you could live in, if you wanted, Mr. Centipede. I think that's a fair bargain for leaving me alone, no?) After all, claymation centipedes are not scary, they wear cute little outfits, I could find you just by following the scent of your cigar, and I would think that claymation centipedes move a heck of a lot slower than real centipedes. Which means I could easily remove you to the garage. Or the garage across the street. Or somewhere else far, far away.

So let me know what you think, Mr. Centipede, because I don't like this feeling of intense DREAD and FEAR that I have begun to experience as I slowly tread down the steps to my room at night. I know you won't bite me unless provoked, but let's just take that situation out of the realm of possibility by relocating you to greener pastures. Whether that is the neighbor's house or a kleenex in my trash can is your decision. I'm just gonna throw that out there for ya.

Love,
Margo