This is the story of a lady who hated bugs. She did not like bugs in any way and did not like bugs on any day. Not red bugs or bed bugs, black bugs or white bugs, big bugs or small bugs nor wig bugs or tall bugs. She. Hated. Bugs.
“Oh, I just can’t stand them” she’d say. “With their creepy little legs and their beady little eyes; laying all their eggs; I hate them worse than flies.”
The lady’s name was Betty and all of her friends knew how she felt about creepy crawlers. No amount of discussion could convince Betty that bugs had any purpose in life other than to freak her out.
“But what about Lady Bugs?” they’d say. “They’re so cute. Or Rolly Polly Doodle Bugs? Surely you don’t mind them.”
Betty minded every kind of bug. Betty hated bugs.
One day, Betty made plans to go out to dinner with her best friend Jane. Well, Betty thought that Jane was her best friend, but in reality Betty got on Jane’s last fucking nerve and the only reason Jane tolerated Betty was out of a sense of obligation. You see, they were once very close in college and their mothers were best friends, but over the years their interests had changed. Jane continued to be cool while Betty turned into an annoying fuck of epic proportions. Still, Jane made time to have dinner with Betty every four or five months.
The two women arrived at the restaurant which had a quaint little patio in the backyard.
“Oh, let’s sit outside,” said Betty. “The weather is so nice tonight. Would you like that, Jane? Would you like to sit outside on the patio as we catch up? I have so much to tell you since we last saw each other. My goodness, I truly do. I just can’t wait to share every single thing that has happened to me in the last 16 weeks, 3 days, 21 hours and 14 minutes since we last saw each other. Shall we sit outside, Jane? Shall we? Oh please say you want to sit outside, dear Jane.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” said Jane. “Let’s just do this. Two for outside,” said Jane to the waiter.
The waiter put down his glass of seltzer and led the two women to a table on the patio. He placed two menus on the table and told them he would be right back to see what they would like to drink. As they sat down, Betty looked at the garden that was blooming all around them and began to think of all the bugs that might be crawling around on the plants.
“Are you still freaked out by bugs?” asked Jane.
“Well, I’m better than I used to be,” Betty lied. “But I don’t think I can face sitting here.”
“What is it, you cunt face?” asked Jane.
“Jane, did you just call me a ‘cunt face’?”
“No,” Jane lied. “I said ‘what is it you can’t face?’ Jeez, Betty. Chill out.”
“Oh, well, I just think this table is a little too wobbly. Let’s move to that one over there.”
Betty picked up the menus just as the waiter was coming back to the garden to take their drink order. Betty waved at him as if he wouldn’t see that they had moved five feet from where they were the last time he saw them. “Yoo hoo! We’re over here now!”
“Yeah, we had to move because Betty doesn’t like bugs,” smirked Jane.
The waiter took their drink orders; Betty asked for a water with extra lemon while Jane ordered a dirty vodka martini with extra olives. “Like, porn star/Lindsay Lohan dirty,” she said. “And hurry.”
As Jane opened the menu, Betty looked down at the cement to make sure there were no bugs that were plotting out their attack on her legs. Although she saw nothing, she realized that she was still too close to the plants for her to feel comfortable.
“Jane, dear, would you mind too terribly if we move to that table over there?” she asked.
“Bugs?” said Jane.
“No, no, no, it’s just that the sun is shining in my eyes and I want to be able to give my full attention to you and not have to be thinking about shielding my eyes as I try to tell you about my love life-”
“Fine,” grunted Jane. “Let’s go. You really need to get past this whole ‘bugs are scary’ thing.”
Betty tried to convince her friend that it was just the sun and the wobbly table, but Jane knew it was because Betty thought a bug might climb up her leg and sneak into her vagina. At this time the waiter reappeared with drinks for the two women.
“Yoo hoo, we’re over here now. Yoo hoo!! The sun was shining in my eyes at that other table. I swear it wasn’t because I thought a bug might crawl up my leg and sneak into my vagina or anything like that.”
The waiter didn’t give a shit because all he was thinking about was what kind of shift drink he would be having two hours later. He placed their drinks before them, telling them he would be right back to take their food order. He noticed how Jane practically grabbed the martini off the tray as if she needed more than oxygen. He understood how she felt and made his way back inside the restaurant.
Two minutes later, he heard a scream from the patio; a blood curdling scream that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Betty came running into the restaurant, arms flailing about her body.
“Oh my GOD! A bug just crawled up my leg and tried to sneak into my vagina! Your patio is swarming with bugs! What kind of patio has that many bugs?? Oh my god! Why are there so many bugs out there?” she cried.
“Well, it’s outside, so it’s kinda their home,” replied the waiter.
This is when Jane came inside as well, an empty martini glass in her hands. She handed a twenty dollar bill to the waiter and looked at her friend.
“Listen, Betty. Bugs are bugs. They exist. If you don’t want to be close to them, don’t ask to sit on the fucking patio, cunt face. Bugs always find the bitches. I’m outta here.”
Jane sauntered out of the restaurant, leaving Betty the Bug Bitch alone and embarrassed. Betty didn’t know what to do or say, so she straightened her hair and adjusted her skirt. She cleared her throat and said, “I do not like bugs in any way and do not like bugs on any day. Not red bugs or bed bugs, black bugs or white bugs, big bugs or small bugs nor wig bugs or tall bugs.” With that, she left the restaurant.
“Bugs always find the bitches,” said the waiter.