Goin' Buggy!

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Strongside/Weakside: Jurgen Klinsmann

Despite leading the U.S. men’s national team through the so-called “Group of Death” in the 2014 World Cup, Jurgen Klinsmann has come under heavy criticism this week after his side finished fourth in the 2015 Gold Cup. Is he any good?

How Apple Plans To Rebound From Apple Watch Flop

With sales of the Apple Watch reportedly down 90 percent since its initial release, Apple is suffering in the wearables market and faces a lack of enthusiasm about its latest product. Here are some ways Apple can improve the watch and prevent the company from falling into a slump:
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Just Like Everything Else!: Fox 8 p.m. EDT/7 p.m. ABC Pete's wife is still on him about building that darn shed, these kids are going to be the death of Sheila and Dave, and the hot next-door neighbor is up in EVERYBODY'S business! Sunday nights on ABC couldn't be any more familiar!

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    THE HEAVENS—Killing four and critically wounding several others, armed guards dispatched from the Right Hand of God reportedly opened fire early Monday morning on a group of angels attempting to escape from heaven. One of the Eternal Kingdom’s...

Goin' Buggy!

Well, week two of being an enormous cock-roach, and I must admit that it's not so bad. If this sentiment sounds curious to you, bear in mind that prior to this metamorphosis, I was a 132-year-old human being who was constantly bed-ridden. My mobility has greatly improved, and I can skitter about quite ably from room to room on my six hairy legs. I have a commanding set of mandibles, and my shell is of an attractive mahogany hue. It's not glamorous, but I must say that if I had to metamorphose into an insect, I could have done far worse, such as a meal-worm or one of those creepy luna moths. Ewww! My exoskeleton crawls just to think of it!

Also, it's not as if there were a dainty lady around here who would scream and faint dead away at my shocking condition. The only woman is Nurse Pin-head, and she's about as squeamish as a pillar of flint. When she saw me scaling the wall of my study, she merely shrugged and walked away. It took Doc McGillicuddy a few minutes to notice what had happened to me during my weekly check-up.

Responding to my queries about my condition (I can still talk despite my commanding set of mandibles), Doc McGillicuddy produced a small pamphlet. It was a narrative about a Jewish sales-man from Prague who experienced a similar physical transformation. Curious, I bade Nurse Pin-head to read it to me. At first, I found the description of the petit-bourgeois preoccupations of Mr. Samsa and his family rather twee, discursive, and far too conversational for a medical-tract. And I kept wishing that the author would get to the part about the cure. Then Nurse Pin-head read aloud the char-woman's discovery.

"Holy shit!" I shrieked. "You're going to kill me!" My antennae quivered uncontrollably, and I shot under-neath the sofa in my study as fast as my legs could carry me. I didn't care if it was socially unacceptable to turn into a giant bug; no-one was going to hurl apples at me! In spite of my servants' entreaties, I refused to emerge. "If there's no cure for my condition, so be it!" I cried! "Just call me Blattella germanica from now on. And while you're at it, bring me a plate of rotten meat!"

I don't want any-one feeling sorry for me. Come to think of it, no-one felt sorry for me when I was an infirm old man, so the hell with you all! I still spend most of my time under-neath the sofa, but for the last couple nights I've been going down to the kitchen and lingering around the sink-pipes. I like the dampness, away from the char-woman.