m
READS
RINGS
I, apparently, am allergic to catepillars. Specifically, wooly worms.
I was sitting quietly on my porch one recent evening, minding my own business when a tiny white wooly worm (who was clearly immune to citronella fumes) attacked me. When I say attacked, I mean that he had managed to slink his way to my neck. I felt a tickle and assumed it was a little moth. I brushed at it...and felt something fall down my shirt. Tenacious moth, thought I. So I put my hand on my stomach and rubbed my shirt in a circle to put an end to my uninvited guest. And that was that.
Until my neck began to itch.
I attributed it to the fact that I was wearing a new shirt. I went inside to retire and I noticed a strange spot on my freshly washed shirt. Hmm, thought I. I plucked at my shirt and out tumbled a tiny dead--or mortally wounded. I didn't check for a pulse--white wooly worm. I shuddered...ok, heaved and disposed of the body.
The next morning, I was covered in an itchy, screaming red rash, everywhere that little bastard had touched me. I was mercilessly covered in a line that stretched from my neck, went between my breasts, stretched across a six inch circle on my stomach and came to an abrupt stop at my waistline. The doctor was baffled and gave me some cortisone cream.
She acted like she'd never seen a wooly worm allergy before.
design by fergie
Bits of fire in the sky push me east back home. I used to live in flames
but it's hard on the wings. Choke me. Smoke me. Scare me back. You try
but you just can't. I peel the layers in my spare time, and you're easy
to see through. I can fly, I've discovered on my own. I may be the lesser
butterfly but my wings are just as strong. Who are you to tell me to find
a place to land? I may be the lesser butterfly but baby watch me glide.
