A Beetle Encounter

After a delicious Cinco de Mayo feast with my family last night, Brian and I made our way to our vehicle to head home. I was only slightly bleary from beer-ritas, but enough alcohol had been consumed that it was a no-brainer for me to take the passenger seat. Brian climbed behind the wheel, winced when his knees hit the steering wheel (my legs are really short, y’all), adjusted the seat so he could actually drive the car, and put the key in the ignition. He reached over his shoulder to pull his seat belt across…

…and yelped like a large-breasted blonde in a horror flick.

“OMG WHAT?” I shout, thinking he’s gotten his hands on a tarantula/live grenade/baby rattlesnake.

“There’s a BUG on the DOOR!” he gasped.

I’m immediately on alert mode. You guys know how much I hate spiders, and although the perpetrator hadn’t been identified as such, I was still ready to administer all evacuation protocols.

But it wasn’t a spider. It wasn’t a stinging wasp or a praying mantis or any other large, scary bug. In fact, it wasn’t even a BIG bug. It was a small, unassuming beetle.


However, Brian didn’t see cute little bug guy. “Blerg,” he shuddered. “It looks like a COCKROACH.”

So I’m assuming he saw something more akin to this guy:


Either way, Mr. McCartney had fluttered into our car as we’d climbed in. And now he was hanging out on the door, banging his head gently against the window in an attempt to escape.

Brian did what any logical person would do. He pushed the button to lower the window, thinking the beetle would gracefully take his leave. However, like Buttercup in the Fire Swamp quicksand, the little beetle was sucked down into the pits of despair. And Brian wasn’t pulling a Westley, either.

(*Author’s note: I’ve been waiting over 2 years to reference The Princess Bride on this blog. Thank you, Brian and Beetle, for making it possible.)

So, for the next ten minutes, we sat in my parents’ driveway, waiting for the bug to reemerge. When his little antennae would appear above the rubber seal between the door panel and the window, Brian would lower the window again, attempting to shoo him out, to no avail.

Finally, frustrated and sleepy, I convinced Brian to take me home. “The bug will come out on his own eventually, and then you can open the door and swat him out.” It sounded logical to me.

The hubs wasn’t too happy about this decree, but he also wasn’t willing to argue. And so, for the next 4 miles, I sat in my seat chuckling as quietly as tequila would allow me to chuckle, while the bug worked his way out of the chasm and Brian did the gangster lean over into my seat.


About halfway home, we stopped at a 4-way intersection, and Brian leaped into action. He whipped the door open with one hand, grabbed a stray notepad from the depths of the car with the other, and finally, successfully, shuffled our friend, the beetle, out into the night.

The damage, however, was done. Because the only thing that broke the silence for the rest of the car ride home was the occasional sound of Brian blanching with bug-disgust.

4 thoughts on “A Beetle Encounter

  1. Dad

    I Love your “bug posts”. This one makes me wonder where Number One Son acquired his aversion to roaches. Was it all the time living in the Carolinas? Was it spending his formative years in Texas. In Texas we had a couple of Oscars and he and little brother wrangled mucho roaches and fed them to the fish with boyish glee.

    1. ThatGabbyAbby Post author

      He’s been terrified of roaches as long as I’ve known him–particularly SC’s own palmetto bugs. Not sure where it came from.

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