Right Back Atcha

I like amusing myself with hypothetical situations. And so do you. (Yes, you do.) So, here's one.

Let's say you see a bug while you're peeing at the toilet. And it's close to you, like you spot it right beside your left foot, really close, like it-could-just-lean-over-and-lick-your-toe close. Never mind whether you freak out, quiver all over, and scream like a schoolgirl, alerting your roommates -- let's get over that moment, please.

And it's a scary-looking bug. I mean, there are bugs, and there are bugs. Like ladybugs are not scary; one might even venture to say they're kind of cute. And they eat aphids, which I understand is a good thing for your mom's prize rosebush, all at the nice cost of free. So that's totally not scary.

But there are those sinister-looking bugs that have mandibles shaped like the sickle of the grim reaper, or have those freaky blade-like jaws that could probably snap tree trunks in half if they were our size. Sometimes, it just needs a fork tail following it along to make it seem dangerous, even if the fork tail does nothing but help its backmost legs stay on the ground. Heck, the fork could even be soft as hairs, but damn, it still looks frightening, doesn't it?

So anyway, it's a scary looking bug with the blade-jaw and the fork-tail, and probably some kind of aftermarket body kit on it. (I think I even read "HKS" on the side. Not too sure, because it was pretty small.)

Back to you. You keep an eye on that scary bug while you finish your pee, making sure he's not planning on climing your foot. Then you grab a few squares of toilet paper and fashion them into a nice cushion that will come between your hand and the bug.

Now, the approach. Let's say you try a few practice squashes in the air just above him -- like you're practicing a putt on the green before stepping up to the ball for the real putt. You nab him, give a quick squeeze and chuck the little guy right into your pee water, quick as lightning.

The main fear here would be that he might quickly crawl over to the other side of your TP cushion and on your hand. And then all fear will break loose, and you'll probably pee your pants and shake your hand furiously as if it were on fire. But that's not about to happen, because the little bug is pretty shocked at his sudden predicament, little legs flailing about, stuck under the very toilet paper square you caught him with. Chances are, you're feeling rather superior right now because you've bested another species -- proof again that we're just higher up the food chain. So you bask in this momentary glory and watch as he tries to escape.

Then you flush. And this toilet-paper-draped, pee-marinated bug swirls into a vortex of copper piping, into somewhere far far away.

So let's say, just say, for argument's sake, just for sh!ts and giggles, that all of the above happened to you. Stay with me here, even just for the purpose of our amusement.

Would he come back out of the toilet a few nights later, seeking revenge on you?