we knew the asteroid would strike tomorrow – destroying all life on Earth,
they’d still park their car at an odd angle across the lines taking up two or
more spaces to prevent dings to their doors.
I hate miller moths!
I know, I know, hate is a strong word, but still... An entire squadron of them
attacked me last night just as I was reaching over to turn out the light. I
can’t sleep without reading a bit first so when I go to bed that is the only
light left on in the house, well, other than the chargers and blinking cable
modem and wireless router and the light from the streetlight slipping in.
Speaking of slipping in, I don’t know how in the world these li’l bastards get
in the house, but anyway at bedtime they are naturally attracted to my reading
lamp like a dying man to the light.
sleep with a flyswatter for that very reason – to kill the bastards before they
have a chance to crawl into my ear canal in the night. When I’ve finished
reading, when my eyes are tired and I reach to turn off the light, that’s when
they attack, like out of nowhere there are a dozen or more of them suddenly swarming
around the light, thumping against the lampshade and wreaking havoc. I
reluctantly move my water glass out from under the lamp and reach for the
swatter. It’s tough to hit them in the air, yet I waft the flyswatter around
just in case and get a couple of them....one is only stunned and clambers under
my pillow twitching and wiggling. I grab a Kleenex and smash him but it leaves
dust and goo on the bed sheet.
are all but impossible to kill, particularly without disturbing the lamp, the
phone or my ‘night-stuff’ -- my shrine as my daughter calls it – the Kleenex,
Chap stick, earplugs, nasal inhaler, antacids, pen and notepad, my key of G tin
whistle and the cheap-ass clock radio. Still I try my best to kill them without
damaging anything. I’m wide awake and angry at this point and just want them
dead. I slap at them with the flyswatter and the first inadvertent result is the
Lavender drops knocked off the nightstand, then the earplugs, the Kleenex flies
under the bed like a moth itself trying to hide. They continue to flicker and
flit and I’m so mad at this point that I can spit but I finally either kill
them or chase them into hiding. I clean the moth-dust residue from my pillow
and sheets and turn off the light. Now if I can just settle my mind it’s off to
sleep, but then...then...I hear them, wings flittering and thumping against the
lampshade as they continue to rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Kenny A. Chaffin writes
poetry, fiction and nonfiction and has published poems and fiction in Vision Magazine, The Bay Review, Caney
River Reader, WritersHood, Star*Line, MiPo, Melange and Ad Astra and
has published nonfiction in The
Writer, The Electron, Writers Journal and Today’s Family. He grew up in
southern Oklahoma and now lives in Denver, CO where he works hard to make
enough of a living to support two cats, numerous wild birds and a bevy of
squirrels. His poetry collections No
Longer Dressed in Black, The
Poet of Utah Park, The Joy of Science, A Fleeting Existence, a collection of science essays How do we Know, and a memoir of growing up on an Oklahoma farm - Growing
Up Stories are all available at Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B007S3SMY8. He
may be contacted through his website at http://www.kacweb.com.