So the other Saturday night, my mom, sister, the boys' godmom, and I were hanging out with a total of six kids when Godmama heard a buzz, and saw...a huge stinging bug. Two things to know about big stinging bugs: 1--you don't want one in your house, and 2--if you make them mad, they sting.
Instinct took over and she dashed to B's room where she guarded several of the boys playing in there. Mom called for a shoe and one of us took a whack at the Big Stingin' Bug. She got it, but he was only dazed. He flew a dazed circle then flew off.
Great. Now we'd made Big Stingin' Bug mad. Cass, Mom and I grabbed a shoe apiece and tried to position chairs below him to get another crack at him. G followed around, pointing an invisible gun and shooting him. Soon I found him by the light over the kitchen sink, positioned my chair, and whacked at him. The light globe was in the way, though, so it wasn't a perfect shot. He lazily nosedived towards me. My bladder went weak. I charged off the chair, through the dining and "reading rooms" and toward the master bathroom. Cass followed with G and K, and closed the door behind them, telling them to stay where it was safe. Then she went back out to battle with Mom.
I have no idea how Big Stingin' Bug survived as many whacks as he did. It shouldn't be bugly possible. By the time I returned, Mom was screaming for a magazine. I searched high and low, but I'd recently ridded the house of all that extra paper, so all I could offer was a thin textbook. It didn't have the malleability to conform to the slanted ceilings, so it did little good.
The next request was for a broom. I was pretty sure Josh had taken it out to the shed, but was lucky to find it the utility room. Now, Big Stingin' Bug was hiding, though. We searched and searched, and even took one of the boy's suggestions to turn off all but one light so Big Stingin' Bug would gravitate toward it, but it was futile. Finally we gave up.
It was then that Mom heard the buzz. She looked up, and Big Stingin' Bug was right above her. She called for the broom. I tried to strike him, but I'm not really good with a broom, so I handed it off to her. She got him, and he dropped to the floor in front of the sink. He was still moving. She slammed him with the broom, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 times! He twitched, and Cass through her flip flop at him.
Now to dispose of him. since he'd been so resilient, we picked him up with a dustpan (which, as you can see from the photo is really dusty), and flushed him...twice. Tenacious bugger.