I woke up this morning, certain there was an intruder in the house. Lucy D. WonderCat had the big eyes, and I could hear what sounded like someone rifling through the contents of my toilette in the adjoining bathroom. I was momentarily paralyzed by fear, but soon recovered my wits and was proceeding towards the noise with my baseball bat.

There was someone in there, all right.

One of those as****e spider crickets was *get this* dragging my toothbrush around! Back and forth behind the sink and amongst my beloved beauty products he went, standing in striking resemblance to a biped. Oh, and that’s not all. He would stop to hump it now and again in some bizarre love-struck ritual that I did not want to see the culmination of.

It was go time. Zero hour. The battle had to be fought, and won. But how to kill an arthropod the size of a Papillon? Preferably from long range?

The assault began with Kaboom! shower cleaner. It’s one of the few truly caustic things I keep on hand for mold, mildew, and things like as****e crickets and black widows. I shot him a few times, and he went into the sink: an ersatz foxhole. But I saw him. I knew his game. More Kaboom! foamer. I mean, lots more. Instead of quickly killing him, he seemed excited. And although I’m sure the bleach was melting his guts, he was trying to prove a point. That point being “Look lady, I’m going to jump on your face and ruin your life.”

Think again, you bastard.

I moved down the pH scale to GreenWorks natural toilet cleanser. This weighed him down so he couldn’t jump and bought me some time. How to finish the job? Again, from long range. Plotting, thinking, scheming. I had a momentary lapse of judgement and thought maybe running water over him would wash him down the drain.

Wrong-o! I just rinsed off the only thing that had tamed the beast! Again, he lunged for my face. More GreenWorks. I topped him off with some Tall Grass shampoo, just for extra measure, and a nicer smell.

Twitch, twitch. He was of such enormity that I could see his eyes from 10 feet away. And they were looking at me, and I think I saw him smile. He was so not dead. I knew what I had to do. My heart raced, I steadied my gaze, and I reached for the bat.

At 7:18 this morning, the people who were not already awake were treated to my battle cry and two loud thuds.

And then six smaller thuds and some minor shrieking.

My foe lay felled in the sink, his corpse so large that it would not go down the drain unassisted. As a testament to his worthiness as an opponent, I opened my very limited edition Mrs. Meyers rhubarb dish soap, turned on the water, and beat his remnants to a soapy pulp with the end of the bat until there was no trace left of him.

I picked up my toothbrush, threw it in the trash can, made a cup of tea*, and came here to tell you the tale. The moral of the story?

Don’t move my toothbrush.

I really like swearing. 

I am obsessed with household products that get discontinued. (true, though.)

Don’t be a spider cricket if you’re in my house. You’ll end up dead, mulched, and sparkling clean.

*thus showing enormous restraint, considering there is Patron Añejo in the pantry.