Jurassic Bugs

One cardinal rule of bicycle riding in the deep south is this:  Keep thy mouth closed.  Unfortunately, this has always been a very difficult thing for me to do.  As read my kindergarten progress report:  Jillian is a very bright student, but she enjoys visiting with her neighbors a little too much.  

One would tend to think that after having been a cart girl for three years, and eating my fair share of bugs, I would have learned this lesson while riding my bicycle.  But no, let's just blame my deviated septum.  Because if it's not for my chatting up the person I'm riding with (even if it's Fairway) or singing to myself, I usually have to breathe with my mouth open.  

 Because it is so hot here most of the year round, many scary things are given a chance to flourish.  Such as alligators, lots 'o poisonous snakes, Bigfoot, and yes GI-NOR-MOUS bugs.  These bugs aren't just big; they carry weapons AND cell phones.  Because when they find you they like to summon their posse and they don't want to wait around.  

So, this one evening recently, we were taking a bike ride through the neighborhood and I was all chipper as usual just singing some songs to Fairway about the adventures of Pirate dogs of yore, and someone punches me right in the forehead.   Then I realized that there was no one around, and that little voice in the back of my head that says: DUN DUN DUN at moments like this did the dun dun dun thing.  When the stars cleared from my vision and I realized that it was a prehistoric bug or perhaps a pterodactyl that flew into my forehead, I quietly shat my pants, shut my mouth for the remainder of the ride and mumbled to Fairway that I would only be humming to him and he would have to make up his own words.  I mean, I can only do so much.