Monday, March 17, 2003

My Very Own Home Version Of Fear Factor

Yuck. Ew. Yuck. Moths, everywhere. I could show you the velour top I have with little trails EATEN all along the front. Or how about the scarf with the interesting pattern eaten through it, not unlike the little paper tape you used to write programs on with the OLD fashioned, room-sized computers, when you used to have to used BASIC to talk to the giant box of blinking lights. (Anyone else live through that torture?) Oh, and then there was the blood-curdling, scream-inducing moment that forced a complete overhaul of the snack corner on the counter - a pretzel bag with a MOTH MAGGOT walking around - inside.

Now, ever since I first saw that scene in Poltergeist, when the camera man for the paranormal investigation team hallucinates that the food he is eating suddenly starts writhing with maggots, I have not been able to stand the thought of maggots without getting nauseated, so you can imagine the dancing and singing that followed the discovery that moth heaven had moved from my closet and basement, right into the kitchen.

Complete and total freaking out was the only way to go.

Upon closer inspection, I found that these little bastards had made their way into the admittedly old package of rice cakes, which I thought was closed up very tightly, into the pretzels and left over bag of taco chips, even with a chip clip on top, and they even got inside a bag of pixie sticks. Pixie sticks, fercryinoutloud. Moth maggots IN the pixie sticks.

You are nauseated now too, aren't you?

Of course, this comes nowhere near the maggot episode of two summers ago. Now that, friends, was an episode of screaming and dancing in the driveway that has yet to be rivaled.

You are still reading. You sucker for punishment. Okay, I was being lazy, and didn't rinse out the cat food cans and recycle them like a good girl, but instead stuck them in with the trash, and put them out by the curb. Well, the public works in my town picks up the trash, and they are so incredibly anally vigilant about finding recyclable items in the trash, that they must have heard the tink! tink! of cans among all the trash, and they ripped open the bags to see for themselves. Since the cans were in there, they did what they always do, left the whole heap there in the trash can, refusing to take it away.

Okay, I usually recycle diligently, and I was being lazy, I'll own all of that. Still, there is nothing so defeating as coming home from work on a hot summer day, only to discover all the trash you left out in the morning is still there after a long day's bake in the sun, and those cat food cans have never been more fragrant. The last thing you want to do is start sifting through this mess and sorting out the cat food cans. Trust me, you do not want to do this in your work skirt when your tired ass is barely able to drag up the three steps into the house. No, you drag the can back up the driveway, and you leave it there to figure out what to do the next day.

The next day, I found a skillion reasons NOT to open up this trashcan and dig around in there, so I put it off for another day. The second day after The Great Non-Recycling Caper, it's the weekend, and by then I was sufficiently ready to deal with The Nasty. Or so I thought.

I noticed something white on the side of the plastic can, and didn't think too much of it until later. Then, I pulled off the lid, expecting nothing more than a pretty bad smell. As I pulled off the lid, a tremendous, outrageous amount of something white started spilling over the sides of the top of the can. At first, I though it looked just like what oatmeal boiling over the top of a saucepan looks like - until, to my absolute horror, I realized what was actually spilling over the sides at an incredible rate -
MAGGOTS. Thousand and thousands of them. An inconceivable amount of filth pouring out of the trash can and over the sides, like something out of a horror Poltergeist! I'm pretty sure that was the only time in my life that I was so terrified, that I was screaming for what seemed like a full minute (but was probably only seconds) before I knew that I was even producing sound.

Suffice to say that no amount of Lysol, rubber gloves, bleach and showering later will ever wash off the aftermath of that particular morning. How people could go on a television show and either touch, be touched by, or GAG! eat these disgusting creatures is just beyond my imagination. Even the idea that they might be lurking in my pretzels, chips and pixie sticks forced me to... Oh My God, I just realized as I'm typing this - they went into the trash!

I am just not opening that trash can ever again, and that's all there is to it.

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