the evil that dwells

It lurks in the laundry room, in the darkest corner. Its black carapace gleams dully in the winter light. Its long black tail is twined about itself, awaiting the chance to lash out at me. Its trunk, with a seemingly innocuous blunt end, leans casually against its shiny body, ready to lash out at unsuspecting victims at any moment

I wrestle the creature out of the laundry room by its long nose, wary of its hard shell and nasty round feet. It rolls stubbornly onto its back, telling me with its non verbal language, "Bite Me, Bitch! You are so gonna have to drag me with you, because I am NOT going willingly."

So I drag its annoying protesting upside down carcass out of the laundry room and down the hall. I am in NO mood for this.

Its tail unwinds and begins to trip me up at my slightest movement. Its trunk joins the war, flummoxing my every move, tangling itself in my skirt, attacking curtains, furniture, carpets and the odd periodical or two with impunity. It fights, it wrestles, it SCREAMS as it inhales and exhales its menacing ionic miasma. The demon's hyperventilating stubby thorax flips over in cranky tantrums every time I reign it into some semblance of submission. It attacks my feet, cruelly crushing my bare toes and banging its nasty angular edges against my tender, bony ankles. Still on its back, obviously its preferred state, it puffs and bellows and blats and wheezes. Sometimes, to add insult to injury, it plays dead, its tail wickedly tangled in the chair legs.

I fight the creature up and down the house, wary of its ever-smarter thrusts and parries. Finally, with the fight knocked out of me and my ankles a bruised mess, I have enough, and I heedlessly fling the horrible bastard back into the laundry room.

Man I hate vaccuuming the house.