![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Attack of the Carnivorous Larvae
Jan. 15th, 2006 08:48 pmOur fight against the Larvae is almost at an end. We spent today re-engaging them in battle, our weapons charged for the final confrontation. We poured bleach on their squiggly heads in a shower of anger; we chopped them in half with brooms never meant for war; we dodged aerial attacks by their moth squads, tearing their wings apart like determined King Kongs. Basically, we did a hell of cleaning job on the apartment.
How ironic that yesterday, while attending the birthday party of eminent horror writer Love Muffin, I had no idea that I'd be waking up today in the grip of terror as a legion of Larvae attempted to eat me alive. How innocent and carefree I must have looked yesterday, playing footsie with Suzi underneath the pub table (and barely avoiding getting my crotch squashed by her two-ton boot); how thirsty I must have seemed as I drank foul caramel-tasting beer, hoping to dull my senses and forget the future; how pleasant I must have seemed to all the goths in attendance as I tried to simulate a semblance of joviality while fear gnawed at my insides: for I knew I must eventually return to this apartment and tackle the invasion.
Now we sit and relax. The kitchen, source of their lair and centre of our nightmares, has been wiped clean by Fairy Liquid bombs. The toxic recycling pile which grew by the entrance door has been carried to the containers by the canal and summarily destroyed. Even the bathroom, which seemed strangely devoid of their presence, felt my determination as I furiously rubbed and wiped every shit-stained corner. But now we wait and listen. The mere thought of hearing their bodies squiggling again over our biscuits is enough to send shivers up our spines.
Night has fallen. Although the air outside seems fresh and inviting, we dare not open our windows: there may be more of them outside, in the courtyard that faces our apartment, poised on the bodies of eager moths, ready to fly back into our lives and shatter our sanity. I can almost feel them as I write these words, burning holes into my back with their demented eyes. But they don't know who they are messing with. Giving me the evils won't break my resolve. I'll stand guard, even if it means not sleeping tonight. I have to repeat to myself: I will survive, I will survive, I will survive...
How ironic that yesterday, while attending the birthday party of eminent horror writer Love Muffin, I had no idea that I'd be waking up today in the grip of terror as a legion of Larvae attempted to eat me alive. How innocent and carefree I must have looked yesterday, playing footsie with Suzi underneath the pub table (and barely avoiding getting my crotch squashed by her two-ton boot); how thirsty I must have seemed as I drank foul caramel-tasting beer, hoping to dull my senses and forget the future; how pleasant I must have seemed to all the goths in attendance as I tried to simulate a semblance of joviality while fear gnawed at my insides: for I knew I must eventually return to this apartment and tackle the invasion.
Now we sit and relax. The kitchen, source of their lair and centre of our nightmares, has been wiped clean by Fairy Liquid bombs. The toxic recycling pile which grew by the entrance door has been carried to the containers by the canal and summarily destroyed. Even the bathroom, which seemed strangely devoid of their presence, felt my determination as I furiously rubbed and wiped every shit-stained corner. But now we wait and listen. The mere thought of hearing their bodies squiggling again over our biscuits is enough to send shivers up our spines.
Night has fallen. Although the air outside seems fresh and inviting, we dare not open our windows: there may be more of them outside, in the courtyard that faces our apartment, poised on the bodies of eager moths, ready to fly back into our lives and shatter our sanity. I can almost feel them as I write these words, burning holes into my back with their demented eyes. But they don't know who they are messing with. Giving me the evils won't break my resolve. I'll stand guard, even if it means not sleeping tonight. I have to repeat to myself: I will survive, I will survive, I will survive...
