On Being Assassinated

These be strange times.  I’m not one to get on the End of Days bandwagon, but the goings on of late are getting all too Biblical, if you ask me.  A great deal of the country is washing away in floods, or being blown apart by tornadic winds.  My personal little patch, along with a huge swatch, is experiencing one of the worst droughts since the Dust Bowl years, and many other favorite places are burning away in wildfires, pushed on by the relentless winds that just won’t stop.  It’s not even summer yet, though it’s been summer for weeks now, and we are in the middle, or perhaps just the beginnings, of day after day of temperatures topping 105 degrees.  Come on now.  La Nina, Le Nino, Global Warming, Climate Change…. Pick one.  Something’s up, or else you’re keeping company with that ostrich with its head in the sand.

In the midst of all the weather related catastrophes, which have the trickle down effect to my poor garden as the critters scale the fences and barriers to get at the moisture in my plants, I’ve had my own little encounter with the great outdoors moved in.  Now I have a mostly non-aggression pact with the beasties around here, including spiders, scorpions and even a couple of rattlesnakes I’ve relocated from my front yard.  I give the buggers wide berth, and capture the scorpions and pitch them outside to make their way in the bushes with the rest of the wild things.  Granted I don’t have small children around here in need of protection, and the four foots have a pretty good sense of leaving such creatures alone, and will even point them out.

But the last few nights I’ve been plagued with nocturnal attacks from unknown quarters.  I’ve awakened with huge swollen parts of me, on arms and knees and chest, hot and itchy and painful and going internally to make me sick and feverish.  I’ve got a couple of underlying physical things going on, but nothing that would account for such sudden onsets of said maladies, and my first thought has been spiders.  But three successive nights of attacks just didn’t seem to explain things.

Yesterday I decided to take it down to the bedsheets, knowing I didn’t have bedbugs, and there was a genuine Ah HA moment.  After peeling off the first layer of pillows, there on the next one, sitting all innocent on the dusty pink pillow, was what I believe to be the culprit:  Introducing you to…. The Assassin Bug.

I’ve done a little research, and for the most part they are on the good list of multi-legged beasties.  They go after bed bugs even, (thanks but no thanks, fella – sort of like paying and putting up with the goons to ward off the less goonier ones), but also are beneficial to gardens.  The sad truth is, if they are not in your garden, and happen to find themselves in your boudoir, they are coming after YOU.  They are bloodsuckers, and for good or bad, their bite is virtually painless.  If you happen to be asleep, they bite away and you are never the wiser, till you wake up with a swollen lump as big as a baseball, depending on your own particular reaction to the stuff they’ve injected into you to make their work easier.  Ever heard the term “kissing bug?”  Yep, that’s them, because they are said to have the propensity to “kiss” their victims, get this, near the mouth.  At this point, if I could run screaming, I think I would.  I am ever thankful that I was blessed with their kisses on my arms and mostly extremities, for my face would be ballooned beyond public appearances.

So for all intents and purposes, I go on the record here to report that I’ve been assassinated.  The offender was located and banished, (no, I didn’t even kill it, don’t ask me why), even as I am still hot and swollen and recovering, (and bad joke here as my mind still goes hopelessly and helplessly to the Weiner scandal), but better days are ahead, even if I am now prone to search my bedcovers thoroughly before retiring.

Of great import is that a mystery has been solved.  You might remember a post from months and months ago when I recorded the hatching of some mystery eggs on my deck door, and wondered what they might be.  Well, surprise, and guess what?

Here’s my original picture,

And one from the web which is identifying assassin bugs hatching.


I suppose Science has paid off, though the curious observer had to pay for her curiosity.  Perhaps one of those minute hatchlings grew up big and strong and found its way to my bed.  Figures.  So goes the price of education.  And I suppose I’ll pay it, since it’s getting harder and harder to get one these days.

In the coming days there will be more about the switching of gears as I move into the Slippery Slope side of things, but I figured I’d better keep up the conversation, lest any of you faithful minion types think I’d skipped off the planet again.  And other than the purely pitiful goings on having to do with the local crazies in the neighborhood, I had not much else to offer than the excitement coming from my bedroom.  And more’s the pity that it was due to an Assassin Bug, and it had nothing to do with anything resembling Prince Charming, who has been MIA for lo these many years now.  Looks like it’s going to be a long, hot summer.  And I think someone already wrote that.

Keep a watchful eye, y’all.  And don’t let the bed… um, the assassin bugs bite.


One Response to “On Being Assassinated”

  1. Yuck! I’ve seen some in my bedroom too but didn’t know what they were. Thanks for the education. I’m not as nice as you, I’ll just keep squashing them!

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