by Crystal Allbright

A fateful mistake. I’d fallen asleep with the light on – a sweltering night in June. The pages of a David Sedaris book sprawled beside me. Reading distracted my melting brain in a way that the 12 volt box fan had not.

It was a midnight that brought to mind Ceil Drucker’s “How I Spent My Summer Vacation” [April 2005 BBG]. And though Sedaris and Drucker are satirical riots, my weary body had finally succumbed to sleep…with the lights on.

I’m not sure the source of arousal – the flap of moth wings against the lampshade, the thud of a click beetle on my pillow, or maybe it was the squeal of a squeaky bug near my ear.

The light lured them all.

My eyes opened to illumination from a 20-watt halogen bulb screwed into the inherited and ‘converted to DC’ lamp that had once resided by my grandma’s bed. Much like Sarah Bourbon wrote in “Desert Reef” [February 2005 BBG], I have an appreciation for insects and their nightly activities. But I rose from my supine position in the realization that I had not checked the bedding for the dreaded cone nose beetle: blood sucking vampirelette of Terlinguavania – a.k.a. the assassin bug.

Two flashes of dark darted from the warm imprint left on the mattress.

Two suspected thieves running for cover.

I used the nearest weapon handy – the palm attached to my five digits – and squashed the one nearest escape. Won’t my momma be so proud of me? Guilty! I cried as blood squirted on the nearly new 200 count sheets. The lovely hand-me-down lavender sheets were now stained as if I had started my period without protection. Now the question was: Whose blood was it?

Thinking was diverted as I knocked the second escapee unconscious, legs towards ceiling. Sangra de perra? Was it possible that Rubia, the dog, had given blood to save my life? She watched, painlessly amused from her own bed.

My mate had not made the sacrifice either, since a three-day river trip had taken him far from this sheet-slapping scene.

Survival had brought suspect number two to its feet, but my quickly-acquired tissue did not turn rich red upon the bug’s demise. Maybe this one had been waiting in line for its midnight snack – only to enter hell on an empty stomach.

The small welt developing on the soft tissue near my elbow concluded the source of assassin number one’s last meal. Beware! I proclaimed as the parameters were searched for more six-legged, black-bodied critters. Tomorrow, I resolved to move the bed to the cooler outdoors, erect the mosquito net frame, and install the biting bug shield of holy nylon that would protect my rest. A task usually scheduled for May.

For the next few hours of deep dark, I was going to sleep. I placed my head tenaciously on my pillow as I reached for the switch to turn off the light. End of fate.

Crystal Allbright is an artist, musician, and desert officionado who lives in Terlingua. Visit her website: Crystal Allbright.