The Disrespectful Centipede

Yesterday morning I went into our basement and saw a big centipede but I didn’t kill it because I couldn’t deal.

Yesterday afternoon I went back down there and the same centipede was hanging out on a ledge. He did not run away when I turned on the light and came down. He moved his legs (antennae? who can tell) like he was waving hello. Then he watched me feed the cat and clean out the cat’s box. Like we’re friends or something.

A drawing of a centipede.

Centipede’s are disgusting. Grosser than millipedes. Plus, I read once that centipede’s can bite. It won’t hurt very much but imagining something like that chomping on me makes me uncomfortable.

When centipede’s reach a certain size, they get a swagger. They think they’re Big Bug on Campus and don’t have to worry. About anything. I wonder if centipedes and spiders ever get into epic battles, like giant squids and sperm whales.

One time I was working at the computer in the basement of our last place. I was alone down there but I suddenly had the feeling that I was being watched. It was the weirdest thing. There were those little basement half-windows and I kept looking up at the one over my desk, thinking I’d catch someone peering in.

Then I looked down at my feet and saw a big centipede  along with a beetle friend.

A centipede and a beetle at my feet, watching me.

They were both watching me. It nervous-making. I don’t think bugs should take up so much space that you can sense their presence without them making a sound.