Tuesday, May 11, 2010

The Horror

I rank myself fairly high on the Toughness Meter.  I played football and rugby.  I have broken several bones.  I smoke cigars.  I got a bunch of tattoos.  I pick up snakes when I see them out and about.
when the above pictured house centipede goes scurrying across my floor, I have been known to promptly Curly-shuffle far, far away and assume the fetal position in a remote corner.

Known in the science world as Scutigera coleoptrata, these bad boys originated from the Mediterranean area but have creepy-crawled their way all over the world, including my basement.  
There is no way any description can give their heinous looks any justice, but it is sort of a mutated cricket with about a trillion legs that work in unison like an evil mustache.  

They are repulsive creatures, to say the least, and grow to be about four inches long.  As if that was not bad enough, when you try to capture them, their legs break off and do a funky voodoo death twitch across the floor.  Just thinking about it gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Fortunately, my wife takes command when the ruffians show themselves and she has found that the best way to rub one out of existence is to don elbow-length rubber gloves, get a piece of packaging tape and stick the things up (literally).  She then disposes of the glued suckers in the trash.  Thank goodness for her because I can not deal with them.  I officially tap out and submit.  I would sooner wrestle a tiger shark or tangle with a crocodile than have to take on the horror that lurks in my cellar. 

Now if you will excuse me, I am running late for a pedicure.


  1. That is horrifying. I've seen those awful bastards in the south. They really ought to be dealt with via shotgun, but that destroys the floor.

    Thank you for a skin-crawling morning. I am now going to spent the rest of my day with my feet off the floor. Good God, man.

  2. Could you PLEASE post a picture of pie or something? That thing is freaking me out.

  3. You failed to mention that they can swim against an ocean current, so drowning them is fruitless.

  4. Yes...this insect is truly repugnant. I just step on the bastards....or if my bird dog sees them first...he slaps a big paw on them and thy are history. Do you really make your wife dispatch these critters?

  5. Get a bulldog. Those things are apparently a delicacy to the Old English.

  6. K.S. - I will remove it first thing tomorrow, but I should let you know that in my extensive research I learned that they love hanging out in weejuns.

    MLS - It used to be she would trap them under a glass and leave them for me until I got home, but she devised her infamous scotch tape and rubber glove technique one night in my absence. The plus side is that they make great martini garnishes.

  7. Having grown up around their orange and black (how gauche, I know) poisonous brethren in the tropics, I know that the only way to kill these rotten bastards is with a cane knife.

    Unfortunately, I don't have a cane knife.

    Just one more multi-legged creature to take over my shoes. Ughhhh.