Bugged

Call me old-fashioned... but when THIS, or close-relative, appears between my bed covers in the dead of night, waving it's creepy feelers in my direction as if sizing me up as a possible host for its winter hibernation, I am understandably a little bit BUGGED. It's a bit much really, if you ask me, which it didn't.

Mind you, I didn't wait around to ascertain whether or not it was a courteous sort of bug but rather leapt from my warm cocoon of covers to stand half naked at the side of the bed shivering and spluttering: 'There's a giant bug in the bed! Can you get it out?' to my good man in a tone of voice that was sure to wake him along with one or two of the neighbours. I was thinking of him really, as he too was in the bed with a giant boggle-eyed bug and just didn't know it.

He didn't necessarily see it this way, as he had been in a deep sleep happily dreaming about complicated guitar riffs when assaulted by this truly alarming prospect and asked to do something about it pronto. But seeing there was no way back to that happy guitar place until he located and removed the GIANT bug, he bravely lifted and scanned the covers on my side - with his hand! - and his eyes shut, before pronouncing it bug free in a mumble-grumble voice that suggested he wasn't entirely awake.

In fact, there was no way to tell for sure about the bug without the light, it being the middle of the night and all, so when this was made clear to my good man he switched on the reading light and rescanned the covers with his eyes at least half open. I looked on from more of a distance, to appreciate the bigger picture.

No bug, giant or small.

OK, so there was no big bug in the bed. It seems I dreamed the big bug up. How was I to know? I have never dreamed about a bug in my bed before. Things are getting dire; I think I might have to take up the guitar.