My fear of dead. I repeat. Dead insects has come back to haunt me for the second time in two weeks.

It's not just dead insects, but dead things in general.

Let's just say that like last time, my maid left my window open. And this time, a huge mega flying ant entered my room.

The problem about being afraid of dead insects is that yeah, if it's a cockroach you can squash it with a huge piece of newspaper or a slipper.

If one is around.

Then you get someone else to clear the mess.

If it's a fucking flying beetle or ant, good luck in making it to the door and grabbing a swatter.

Squashing it with your hands is not an option. The horror that assaults me upon the sight of dead corpses is just.

Horrific. Yeah.

So, having a corpse smeared all over your hands or feet is just. Yeah. A new type of hell.

Nevertheless the fucking thing ended up somewhere in my room. It stupidly hit the light, like almost all stupid flying insects do.

After I ignored it for a few hours, it stopped. Yay me. I assume it got rid of itself.

...............six hours later. It fucking lands on my arm. I shout "fuck you." and instinctively jerk my arm. Knocking it to fuck knows where and knocking over the huge jar of water I keep beside me, spilling maybe half of the lovely cold water all over my parquay flooring.

Yay. 

I shout "fuck you" because I have no problems with killing it, I just have problems with it being dead. Like. In my bedroom. On my bed. On my floor. On my hands.

YUCK

It begins to fly stupidly around the light in my room again, ramming it's stupid exoskeleton against the glass multiple times. I open my window, trying to get it to fly out. It doesn't. I pick up my table fan and attempt to blow it out of my window, it just flies erratically and then dive bombs at me.

Just then as another insect flies in I realise my mistake. I run to my light switch, turn it off and crouch beside it in the darkness, waiting for the morbid buzzing to stop.

After maybe two minutes, it does. The coast seems clear, with the outside relatively brighter than the inside, and the window wide open, the insects should've flown out.

I go to close the window and feel the unmistakeable squish of an insect on my left foot.

Fuck.

I go to the window and close it. The room is silent. I step morbidly around the spot where I am 90% sure I squashed that fucking thing. the 10% probability being the only reason why I don't start screaming.

I flick on the switch and fuck that thing is there, dead. Half squashed, its one remaining good wing stuck morbidly in the air.

Because the fucking instinct of the insect in darkness is apparently to lie to the floor; where it can get fucking stepped on. Fuck you insect. Fuck you.

Oh fuck. It's moving now.

Great, it's just listing in the wind of my fan, because it's now not entirely stuck to the floor. Anymore that is.

I better move my fan, because fucking hell I'll have to invent a new swear word to deal with flying insect corpses.

The perilous journey to light switch and back in the darkness without stepping on that stupid shit awaits me.

Wish me luck.