Readers' centipede stories worth more than a few chuckles
By Lee Cataluna
Advertiser Columnist
You would think there was a prize for the biggest, scariest, funniest. A really good prize, like 20 pounds Hinode or something.
But I suppose the truth is that it's human nature to want to share common experiences.
Let me tell you, there are a lot of common centipede experiences. Here are some of the best culled from the uku millions e-mailed to me in the last few weeks.
One 'Ewa Beach woman wrote about a recent sighting in her living room and her husband's killer instincts:
"I tell him to just let it go, it was probably in our house for a long time and it never bothered us, no big deal. My husband is yelling at me because I never got bit, he got bit before, and he thinks that one might have been blue, blah, blah, blah. I can NOT stop laughing, which is pissing him off even more.He gets out this huge sword he has (he's a HIGHLANDER fan, but that's a whole 'nother different story) Anyways, he takes the entertainment center apart piece by piece. The speakers, the TV, the VCR, stereo, the works, he's going to find this thing if it kills him.Well, I'm of no help whatsoever because I'm still laughing ... He finds the poor thing and starts hacking it apart with this sword. Now you really have to picture this, braddah is about 6 feet, goes to the gym 6 times a week, he's pretty buff, plus he's packing a sword ... He's still mad at ME for not being SCAID."
Then there's the story about a Kaua'i family who made it through a camping trip without any centi-sightings. Then they came home:
"The gear was in the yard to be cleaned. The older boys were playing with the tent poles, pretending they were trumpets. The youngest boy, maybe 3, tried to emulate his funny brothers, but you know how little kids get "blow" and "suck" confused? Aieeeeeee. Inhaled or swallowed a centipede hiding inside."
The kid's father was a doctor, so don't lose too much sleep over that one.
But here's one to give you nightmares: One of my colleagues says he's been stung in his sleep not once, not twice, but three different times. (Time to get a hammock, yeah?)
There were many letters not only of THE INCIDENT, but of the lingering effects to one's sense of well-being. "I saw one running around in our living room," one person wrote, "so from now to the day I die, I walk around the house with a pink yardstick."
And finally, here it is. The 20-pound Hinode winner (figuratively, that is. There is no rice prize.)
"Twenty years ago, we lived on Lana'i in one of the old brick houses. It was idyllic, surrounded by Norfolk pines, but underneath the pine needles the yard was choke with centipedes. Big, reddish-brown ugly ones. Beeg!!! Since the house was built on a slab, they would migrate in, mostly babies ... but every now and then the grandfather.
"Our bathroom was right off the kitchen. One Saturday after a half-day's work, I came home. My wife asked me to watch our 18-month old son while she went to Richard's Shopping Center (before they closed for lunch). I hopped in the shower, lathered up and then heard an ear-piercing scream. I jumped out of the shower, covered with shampoo to see our son in his diaper running off into the living room and a monster centipede snaking across our kitchen floor headed for the safety of the stove.
"At that point in time, I didn't know if our son had been stung, but I knew that if the centipede ever reached the stove, we would be doomed to lives of terror, never knowing when he would sneak out to sting us. I looked around to find something to kill him with ... and the only possible instrument of destruction I saw were my cowboy boots by the kitchen door. I quickly snatched one up, put it on and proceeded to stomp that friggin' centipede to death. So there I was dripping wet, covered with suds with jus' one boot on as my wife and her best friend walked into the kitchen with bags of groceries.
"I like the look," said her friend."
Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Her e-mail address is lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com
