Dear Genetically Mutated Insect,

I thought we had a deal. Last night, when I found your two-inch antennae sweeping my bathroom wall, presumably looking for a human baby you could carry back to your nest, I refrained from screaming. I assure you, my girlish, blood-curdling squeal would have hurt your delicate sense of hearing more than mine.

I also refrained from pounding your skeletal frame into the wall with my shoe. I admit, my decision was not altruistic. I have never seen an insect of your girth and flying ability, and there was some concern that a 9 ½ soccer shoe would irritate you rather than kill you.

So we made a deal. I’ll skip going to the bathroom and I’ll leave the door open, giving you the whole night to leave on an adventure on a new world. You responded by buzzing around the light, indicating that you thought it was a good idea.

Yet when I woke up at 1:00 P.M. today and rushed into the bathroom to clear some logs from the dam, I saw our window blind shake and heard a loud buzzing. It appears in addition to being obscenely large, or perhaps because of the social reaction to your condition, you are agoraphobic.

I’m sorry. I really am. But you have to leave now. My alternate bathroom is five miles away at McDonalds, and if I end up going there, I’m either bringing back an exterminator or a clown with big feet.

Sincerely,

A NORAML-SIZED Human

P.S. The neighbors next door have a 2-year-old child. I left their window open.