It had been a day of skiing, if not a particularly long nor hard one, and I wanted to take a shower.
I took off my glasses and turned on the faucet. I am quite literally legally blind without my glasses, so when I saw something brown shoot away from the drain, I squinted at it. I stuck my face into the tub to look, getting perhaps a foot away from it. Finally, I yelled at Ethan, “Hey, is this a thing a clump of hair, or does it have legs?”
He’d already taken off his glasses when he stood next to me and squinted. After a couple seconds with no more luck discerning its nature than I’d had, he went and put his glasses back on. Then he returned.
“Whoa! God damn!” he yelled. “That thing is huge!”
I left to get my glasses.
“What is that, a centipede?” he asked.
“I’m pretty sure that’s Cthulhu.” I stood up. “Well, I don’t think I really need to take a shower.”
Ethan chuckled. “Oh, Pewter,” he called.
“That thing could eat the cat!” I snarled.
“Fine. Get me a piece of paper or something,” he sighed.
“I’ll just get you half the roll of paper towels.”
“What? I don’t want to kill it!”
“It doesn’t deserve to live! It just flipped me off!”
But he got that quivering-lipped expression on his face, so I went to grab a piece of paper.
After a few cries of, “Damn! He’s fast!” Ethan succeeded in getting it on the paper, which he raised triumphantly. I stared at it suspiciously, then stared at his naked body.
“So what are you going to do with it now?” I wanted to know.
He looked down as if surprised to discover he had no clothes on. “Good question.” He thrust the piece of paper at me. “Here.”
“Get that thing away from me!” I shouted.
He grimaced and headed for the back door. “Let’s just hope none of the neighbors come home right now.”
He took the monster centipede down the back stairs. I heard an, “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. I just lost him. Right near the door, too.” He scrambled around. Since I’d been all for putting the creature out of its misery, I let him figure out its whereabouts by himself. I’d just go read up on Wikipedia about hypothermia treatments.
I heard the back door open and quickly close. Ethan ran up the steps.
“Did you get him safely out in the cold, where he’ll likely freeze to death or wind up right back in our bathtub?”
He hopped quickly in the shower, rubbing his hands together. “Yup! I still say we should have gotten Pewter to go after it.”
“Pewter doesn’t go after bugs. Besides, it was so big, the cat could have turned it into his own personal pony.”
Ethan started giggling. “I’m just imagining Pewter with a little cowboy hat and spurs, riding a giant centipede.”
He kept giggling. I joined him. Soon, we were laughing with all the hysteria of two people who knew that there was a giant centipede lurking just outside our back door. Plotting.