The Monk Bought Lunch

buggin' out

I'm not normally squeamish about bugs. They really don't bother me overly much- even cockraoches I can handle. But this morning in my shower? The despised silverfish. I HATE these motherfuckers. I've never encountered a creature that exudes such sheer malevolence. I'm not sure what it is about them- the way they seem to move unnaturally fast so that sometimes you're not even sure you saw them? Or the way they come out of your drain as though if you hadn't been there they would've stayed in their slimy subterranean lair- they came out just to fuck with you. Maybe it's because you can't seem to kill them by stepping on them- it's like they are able to conform to the contours of your tread so that when you pick your foot up they scurry away to torment you again. Even when you squish them with a tissue and flush them down the toilet you get the feeling you've only dealt them a minor setback.
I've always had friends who say about one creature or another something along the lines of "I wouldn't mind if they were wiped off the planet" and I usually respond with some sort of defense of said creature. Ants, though I may not want them in my house, are undeniably nifty bugs- look at the complex societal structure, the sort of Borg mentality with which they carry out their monumental tasks. Bees, wasps, hornets, etc.? Potentially dangerous but pretty cool. It's a matter of mitigating fascination and a creature's place in the ecosystem, ie. spiders eat other insects so they're okay.
Silverfish, though, can all go to Hell. I don't care what they do, whatever benefits they may bestow on humanity and the world, I want them to die. All of them. Goddamn silverfish.
Oh, and get this: they can go a year without food!
GODDAMN SILVERFISH.