Friday, August 11, 2006


I awoke one night, I got a bite, right where you might expect. In the vicinity of my former virginity and in the spot where I was scratching, my girlfriend thought I had something catching.

Yes, I found the critter on my mattress. I sprayed with Raid and the bugger made a fast retreat on a dozen tiny little feet. It sped out of my bed. One more squirt and it dropped dead.

On Night Two, what did I do? To play it safe I slept on the couch and sure enough at two past two---OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! As you'd expect that insect had cousins by the dozens. They met for their convention in a section of me I am embarrassed to mention.

The bugs were lodged in my rear posterior. I was determined to rout them out. I inserted a tape in my tush with a recording of a speech by Bush. The strategy didn't chase the bugs away. Instead I heard a mighty hip-hooray. They wanted Bush, the bug, to stay.

Now that I knew where they hibernated I was determined they be exterminated. I went to the famous terminator, a former bug impersonator, Dr. Arnold Schwartzenegger. He refused to help my cause because he was their friend and would be a bugger to the end.

I tried this and I tried that. Ointments were a disappointment. Preparation H ended in frustration. I found Ex-Lax lacking. Prunes fresh, or turned into juice, were of no use.

I was not to be denied. Every thing I tried to evict them from my inside failed. Then I went on a diet of Boston beans. After a month of constipation, while on the pot in a mood of frustration, there was a blast and the bedbugs ran gasping from the bean scene. As they rushed, I flushed and flushed.

To my delight, I slept that night without a bite.


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