I Hate Bugs

This morning as I was innocently minding my own business and walking from my car to the elevator at work, I looked down and noticed a cockroach.

Why are these things allowed in parking garages? If I can't get in without a pass key then this vile little guy shouldn't be skating along with not a care in the world. My first instinct was to squish him. I mean it's a roach for Pete's sake. Who's going to miss him?

Then I realized that he was cruising all alone. Don't roaches hunt in packs? Where are all his roach buddies? Is he just an explorer or is he the loser that no one wants to sit next to because he smells and picks his scabs.

Suddenly I didn't want to step on him anymore. I kinda felt sorry for him. He's just trying to be his own man and no one wants to see the goodness inside of him.

Mostly I just didn't want to get roach guts on my shoes. And the potential for sprayage was a factor too.

A few hours later I go outside to drop off some mail and see a bee laying on the ground.

I don't see many bees when they are napping so I thought this was a chance to check him out without being convinced he was going to attack me.

But I didn't see any movement. He's either a deep sleeper, or he's entered the eternal slumber. I start thinking about the roach and how these two could have been friends. Like Milo & Otis. Or Bert & Ernie. I'm sure that's a great kids show just waiting to be made.

I considered stepping on the bee, but again I was overcome with compassion for a living creature. I walked away and let him nap in peace.

But mostly I was afraid I'd step right on the stinger and it would go through my shoe and the little bastard would kill me because I'm probably allergic to bee stings.

Maybe no one should be friends with the scab pickers of the world.