Boss Fugly Bug

Sometimes when Taz and I are sitting around doing homework we hear loud crashes from above our room.

We live on the top floor.

The only possible explanation is that there is some kind of monster who lives in the space between the ceiling and the roof. I've popped my head through the ceiling tiles to look for him, but so far I haven't caught so much as a glimpse. However, we have strong evidence that what we are dealing with is a giant bug.

We call him the Boss Fugly Bug because he seems to be the last line of defense for all the flicky, fugly, flying insects that come to visit us when it gets warm, like the final boss that kicks your ass in video games.

We've never been sure what kind of insect our visitors actually are. When they fly, they're easy to mistake for wasps, but they're really harmless unless you squish them, in which case they emit the fugliest smell you can imagine. Hence they are "fugly bugs."

The thing we've noticed about these fugly bugs is that most of them are horribly mutilated by the time they get inside. They are supposed to have six legs, but we've found bugs missing two, three, even four legs.

Naturally this is because they had to do epic battle to get into our room. Or perhaps it's the border price. Seems it costs them an arm and a leg to come here (funny, it costs my family about that much to send me here, too).

One way or the other though, the Boss is responsible. Either the fugly pilgrims fight him to gain entry, losing legs in the process, or the Boss demands leggy payment and grants peaceful passage once the price is paid. Possibly the reason some are missing so many legs is that we bring them outside and they are forced to pay the border fee again to get back inside.

It's a fugly life for a fugly bug.