Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Castaway

Picking up my vibrating phone, I rushed outside to answer my sister's call regarding Christmas presents. When I hung up, I rushed back inside, eager to start lunch. At 11:30 a.m., I had decided I could not go on with life until I ate again.

Scurrying to the bathroom to wash my hands, I idly glanced up in the mirror and back down again. Then, I took a closer look at my reflection. The squirming black speck in my hair was not a figment of my imagination. It was a bug. A black bug desperately trying to blend into the white-blond wisps of my pulled-back hair.

"What are you doing?" I asked the bug, continuing to soap up my hands. The bug didn't respond. He simply froze in the middle of my hair, clinging on for dead life.

"I can see you, you know," I told the bug. "Why are you in my hair?"

"Because," the bug whispered, clinging tighter to my hair.

"Because what?" I asked, rinsing off my hands and drying them with paper towels.

"I'm hiding!" the bug informed me, twitching his antennae at me. "Shhh!"

Trying not to laugh, I decided to introduce the bug to Libby. I just knew she would be thrilled to meet him. Prancing over to her desk, I tapped her on the shoulder. She didn't look at me.

"Libby," I whispered.

"What?" she responded, not looking up.

"Libby," I whispered, nudging her in the arm. The bug began to shiver in my hair.

"Please," the bug pleaded. "Please, let's go back outside."

"What?" she hissed, moving her mouse around.

"Libby!" I poked her harder in the arm. This time, she looked up at me. Her scowling expression quickly merged into one of terror.

"OHMYGOD!" she squealed, covering her mouth with her lips. "There's a bug in your hair!"

"Oh my God, she found me!!!" the bug yelled, waving his arms in excitement. "It's your turn now!"

"Ew ew ew ew ew!" Libby shrieked, slapping a paper on my head. "Get it off get it off get it off!"

"Ahhhhh!" the bug yelled, flinging himself in a desperate attempt to escape the paper onto the desk. "Ok, ok, I'll be it again!"

"Now it's on my desk!" Libby gasped, horrified. She danced around on her toes and pointed to the offending bug, who was scurrying quickly for the safety of the phone cord. "Ew ew ew! Get it off, get it off!"

"You're the one that wanted me to hide here," the bug sniffed as I scooped him back in my hand. As Libby fanned herself in relief, I took the bug back outside.

"Can I go back in your hair?" the bug asked, eyeing the chunks of hair that had escaped from my hair style hopefully. "It smells like turnips there. It's quite nice."

"Nope," I said, setting him on a leaf. "You can stay here."

"Are you going to hide now?" the bug asked. Playing along, I nodded. "I'll go hide now." Once inside, I promptly forgot about the bug until I headed home after work. When I opened the door, I heard a tiny squeal of triumph.

"I see you!" the bug cried. "It's my turn now!" Without another word, he promptly turned and flew away into the darkening sky.

I still haven't found him. However, I'm hoping the itching sensation on my scalp isn't his newest hiding place.