The process of putting up our Christmas tree involved a hammer, a screw driver, a broom, a sheet, a grown woman hanging from the edge of a window sill, another broom, and much spilled water. Oh and friggin’ Christmas carols playing in the background. Joy to the World.
So The Roommate comes into my room the other night and says, “We have a situation in the bathroom. There are bees.”
“There are bees, in the bathroom. They have built a nest on top of the window sill and it is huge and there are tons of them.”
“You’re totally exaggerating.”
“I’m totally not.”
We go investigate the bees and find that they are in fact forming quite a little bee villa right in our bathroom.
“Holy crap! How long have those been there?”
“I don’t know, awhile.”
“Why didn’t you do anything about it?”
“I don’t like bugs.”
“Well, we have to do something about it. Maybe you can knock it down and we’ll get it out the window.”
“I don’t like bugs. Remember that time when I first moved in and there was that green bug and I told you that if you killed it I’d clean it up? And then you used the broom with your shoe on the end of it to kill it?”
(This, by the way, is a brilliant way to kill bugs without having to get near them. Put your shoe on the handle end of the broom and then extend the broom and kill the bug. It’s kinda like a Go Go Gadget Arm. But a little less high-tech.)
“Yes, I remember that.”
“Well, if you kill the bees, I’ll clean them up.”
“That sounds like the fairest plan ever.”
“I don’t like bugs.”
And I don’t like bugs either. So I called my dad to ask him what I should do.
“You should knock it down and then try to kill them.”
“Riiiiiight. We are coexisting peacefully in my home right now. But I fear the bees are mobilizing and the second I mess with them they will be ready to attack.”
“Be careful, they’ll bite the hell out of ya.”
So then I call my friend who owns a pest control business.
“Brian! I have BEES IN MY HOUSE.”
“What do they look like?”
“I don’t know, buzzy, bee things. They are IN MY HOUSE.”
“What does their nest look like?”
“It’s like a cone thing.”
“You have hornets in your house.”
“Brian. I don’t care what I have in my house, I just want them out of my house.”
So he sent one of his bug guys down to kill the evil bees/actually hornets. The bug man sprayed the hell out of the bathroom and then closed the door. He said to leave the door closed for an hour or so and then we’d have to go in and clean them up.
And by “we” I mean “The Roommate”.
“Remember last night when you said that if I killed the bugs that you’d clean them up?”
“Well, I had the bugs killed, so I think that counts.”
“Oh no. Are they in there?” (points to the bathroom)
“Yep, I think so, I haven’t been in there.”
She goes into the bathroom timidly. She runs out screaming.
“There is one STILL ALIVE on the blinds!! It’s STILL MOVING!! Totally your job to kill it!!”
So I get the handy dandy broom and have a whack at it. This doesn’t so much kill the hornet as it pisses it off. It starts flying all over the place. Causing two grown women to run as if they are being chased by an axe murderer.
“OH MY GOD!! It’s MAD!”
“It’s not mad. Hornets do not have emotions.”
“It knows that we killed its family and destroyed its home. It’s totally pissed at us!”
“It has the brain is the size of a grain of sand, it does not know that we destroyed its house.”
“It knows it’s been working on something for three months and now it’s gone.”
“It’s probably just sick and dying, cause it’s all drugged. Poor thing.”
“Poor thing?! It’s trying to attack us!”
“It’s a hornet. Not a serial killer.”
“Where’d it go?”
“I don’t know, I think it’s in the shower.”
The Roommate grabs the broom from my hand, “I have to find it, cause I’m going to take a shower in the morning and it’s going to attack me.” She enters the bathroom and pokes around, concentrating hard.
I wait in the hallway, “I am going to take a shower before you.”
“You go to bed an hour before I get up to go to work, how are you going to take a shower before me?”
“I take my showers at night.”
Her face lights up.
“But tonight I think I’ll wait and take it when I wake up in the morning.”
Her face falls, “Bitch.”
She goes back to her search. I enter the room (very quietly, I guess) and pull back the shower curtain, thinking the hornet may be tucked in its folds. The Roommate is unaware that I am in the room and thinks that the giant mutant hornet has just pulled back the shower curtain on its way to seek its revenge on her. She screams and runs. Then I in turn scream and run, because I think that something horrible must be happening in order for her to be screaming and running. We both end up in our respective rooms, frantically brushing invisible things off of ourselves.
“What did you see?”
“I didn’t know you were in there, and the curtain freaked me out.”
We both stare at the bathroom as if it holds our destiny of a tragic demise. We stare for quite some time, while sitting within the safe borders of each of our rooms. We eventually muster up the courage (and an extra broom) to enter the room once again. We search forever, all over the bathroom, and find nothing. I think that it finally just died from the poison. But The Roommate does not.
“No, it’s totally still alive. And it’s planning. And one day it’s going to attack us in here.”
Until then I’ll be showering with the broom. Which is fine, because it comes in handy for those hard to reach places.