There we were, driving home on the motorcycle from a nice dinner at a friend’s house. The paths through the forest a thick with dust, a red earth maze that takes us home. It’s dark in that forest; only the stars above and the headlamp light the way. We were weaving around corners, taking in the scent of the trees, when—whoosh!—a bug bounced of the light. Then—bang!—another. And another and another.
“What are they?!” Monica shouted in fear.
“I don’t know!” I hollered through the thickening cloud of wings that surrounded us. “Maybe moths?!” I was reminded of an X-Files episode where bugs ate people alive.
The fluttering of wings filled our ears and we closed our mouths and eyes in terror. Blackness, with nothing but bugs! Where’s the end of the cloud? How can we possibly continue driving like this?
Somehow, miraculously, we escaped the swarm and found our way home.
We were shell shocked but received warmly by Julie, who was making us all our last cup of tea for the day. She sat us down, stroked our wing-ridden hair, spoke softly to solicit the story from our frantic lips. But just as we started speaking, we noticed a flicker in the shadow. And another and another.
Wings and moth-like creatures had found us in the forest, and their numbers were multiplying faster than when we were on the bike.
What to do?!
We abandoned half-filled tea mugs on the table and sprinted inside. Within the safety of the cement walls, we figured we’d play cards until falling asleep.
The bugs had other ideas.
They flew into the screens, buzzing and fluttering about. Wings were everywhere. They covered every surface of the house trying desperately to find their way in.
We cut the lights.
They continued to plague the screens, but only a few dozen found there way inside.
Somehow, we all managed to fall asleep. And this is what we woke up to:
I’ve discovered since that fateful night that we were attacked by flying termites, and that the villagers fry them and eat them.
ReplyDeleteTo answer the question in your mind: Yes, I ate fried termites, courtesy of the Old Man. Taste=Salty. Concept=Gross.