The June Bug and my Naughty Bits
On Saturday, I promised that some mishap or other would transpire from floating down a black water river in a tire tube. Amazingly, nothing happened, other than we had tons of fun. It was a postcard day for floating down the Edisto. Me being me, though, I’m bound to find some sort of awful hilarity somewhere.
We loaded up in the car to drive to the Denmark Cemetery at dusk. What were we doing driving to a country grave yard in the waning evening on the 3rd of July? Were we a crazed band of drunken Satanists, conducting a seance to ask the great spirits if our country will survive for another year? Well, that’s another post for another day.
My husband left the windows down on Miss Mini all day. Because we were parked in the direct sun, and this is the Deep South, it was the prudent thing to do so that the seats didn’t give us third degree burns on our behinds when we ultimately had to sit on them again. (As an aside, why doesn’t someone invent “seat coolers” for just such a problem?)
Racing against the fading light, we packed into the car and shoved off, my husband driving, me in the passenger seat, and his mother in the back. In a blur, we motored down the barren country road behind our ringleader, driving as fast as we could in an attempt to keep his truck tail lights visible up ahead.
As we came over a rise in the pavement, that was when I felt it. Something was moving around down there. You know, DOWN THERE?
Uncomfortably, I wriggled in my seat, thinking that I was imagining things, but something was definitely still moving around in the vicinity of my nether regions. Tentatively, and with as much decorum as I could muster under the circumstances, I peeked under the hem of my skirt.
Upon glimpsing a big old ugly brown bug, I screamed and pulled my skirt up over my waist with one hand while ripping at my naughty bits with the other in a hapless attempt to move that june bug invader anywhere but there. I don’t even want to imagine what this show would’ve appeared to be to an innocent bystander. It is bad enough that I exposed myself to my mother-in-law. I’m sure she didn’t want to “know” me that well.
The poor bug somehow ended up near the windshield. I don’t know which one of us was more traumatized, but my money is still on the june bug. My husband stopped the car, grabbed it and turned it loose outside, and I can tell you that it hightailed it away from me as fast as it could move itself.
Next time, I’ll leave the car windows shut and let my backside fry, thank you very much.