Murder At Midnight

It’s very hard for me to kill anything having that Quaker/Shaker thing that says, I truly don’t have the right.

That said, I massacred a moth in my kitchen Swiffing him to death heartsick ever since.

He moved in a little over a week ago as a wee tot scaring me when he came tooling out of my lamp while I was reading.  I had just spent 40 bucks having my two best sweaters sewn due to one of his predecessors then sprinkling cedar chips all throughout my closets.

Again, killing for me isn’t easy.  I even relocate water bugs the size of Montana to avoid this, and my biggest fear is having a mouse appear because then what? I’d never have the heart to leave a trap.  I’d have to give him towels and make room for him in the closet.

It was close to midnight as I lay reading cloaked in the peace and quiet of that solitary hour.  I got up to brush my teeth so when I went to get my toothbrush who, now fully grown, comes flying from my medicine cabinet but Mr. Moth.  He scared the crap out of me for starters, then got me thinking about my sweaters.  Resembling a halfback, I knew he had to have a huge appetite…wool on rye?

He was flickering around darting everywhere in what I felt was an arrogant manner.  He was just a guest after all and should have behaved like one.  But like most men you let into your space, he took right over.

My ire and Italian both went up.  “Who do you think you are acting that way? Enough or you’ll be sorry.”

He then started doing relays around the kitchen figuring I was all talk, and I was, even though I said…

“Are you mocking me there Mothie?”

I then took my Swiffer flailing it in the air figuring he’d get the point.

I brushed my teeth, but when I went to shut the light, who did I see crushed on the linoleum with a wing missing?

OMIGOD

I tried reviving him picking him up with a spatula, but knew it was too late.

I didn’t mean to kill him, even though I wanted him gone.  Like the roaches and water bugs who meander through, I was thinking of doing the same, moving him elsewhere,  contemplating capture.

Well, karmically I guess I’ve just dropped a few notches, but it was an accident.

I did say a few words after I wrapped him in Kleenex placing him ever so gently in the trash.

It was the very least I could do.

SB

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About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in animals, comedy, humor, New York City, readng, religion, Women and men and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

28 Responses to Murder At Midnight

  1. micklively says:

    How did you decide he/she was a he?
    I think you’re just going to have to accept now that your reincarnation will be as a moth.
    Still laughing at “wool on rye”.

    Like

  2. skinnyuz2b says:

    I grew up calling moths ‘millers’. But when I became a Miller myself, I began calling them moths. Perhaps the miller was at the end of his life, ready to fall apart, and the Swiffer just hastened the falling apart.

    Like

  3. So funny and tragic. I have been co-habituating with a spider in the main bathroom. One week he spins a web in one corner, the next week he is in the other corner. I see bits of insect dinners there. We have started having discussions. I tell him my problems and he just sits and listens (seriously who does that anymore?). At the end of the therapy session there is no charge. Sometimes I wonder if he would be happier outside with more access in insects. Maybe that will be our next conversation.

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  4. Elle Knowles says:

    Oh goodness Susannah. I thought H was the only one I knew who did such things! Ya’ll must be related. I’m surprised you put him in the trash and didn’t have a bigger ceremony. Cadences hermit crab died while she was here and we buried him in the cat cemetery in the back yard and put an angel statue to watch over him! You could have shipped Mr. Moth here to be laid to rest next to him. I’ll save a plot for you for the next accident.
    Really, that’s very sweet. You are a lover of all wildlife! ~Elle

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  5. He ate your sweaters. He scared the crap out of you. He didn’t listen to your warnings.“Accidents don’t happen to people who take accidents as a personal insult.”
    ― Mario Puzo, The Godfather

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  6. edwardcres says:

    Sweaters are a tough loss, but once one of those voracious little bastards sends a $1,200.00 Brooks Brothers Camel Hair overcoat to the Goodwill bin, you’ll squash the living shit out of them with homicidal self-rightousness that’s positively Biblical.

    Like

  7. AZMike says:

    Susannah,

    I too believe in karma, what goes around comes around. But now after reading your post I can’t drive my semi anymore, thinking of all the poor little bugs slaughtered on my windshield. I’m sorry to have to sue you for emotional distress resulting in loss of my livelyhood.
    Just realized “bugs” is another 4 letter word.
    B-)

    Like

  8. I can see you explaining it to the police later. “It was an accident, I swear. He just ran into my Swiffer.” Good to get your account out on the Internet, just to be sure. 🙂

    Like

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