I went down to the basement last night to find a book. When I did, I discovered camel cricket #1 hopping around. I had no shoes or phone books handy, so I found an old copy of Shell Silverstein's A Light In the Attic and flung it the cricket. That's what I call death by poetry.
Later, I came down with some paper towels to dispose of the evidence. I moved the book, picked up the bug - holding it as far from my body as possible - and opened the laundry room door to throw it in the trash. When I flipped on the light, a big old centipede ran up the wall. I squealed, and jumped back. It got away. So much for my shoe threat. Next time buddy, next time.
P.S. No, I did not take the pictures of the bugs from yesterday's post. They were pilfered from the internetz. Squealing and running does not lend itself to capturing pictures of vicious insects.