I went to minivac up a house centipede (they’re back!) that had made the unwise choice to crawl up my bedroom wall, but the battery was dead.
I plugged it in to its charger and sat at my computer, glancing back every few minutes to make sure the bug was still there, which it was.
Then I got absorbed by some internet something or other and stopped glancing back. Eventually, I noticed that a half hour had gone by. That seemed like a long enough time for the minivac to build up a workable charge, so I turned around to grab it, glancing up at the wall as I did so.
The house centipede was gone.
It was a beat straight out of a horror movie, except whereas in a horror movie this sequence of events ends with someone dying, in this case it ended with me searching my room, finding nothing, then passing out watching Game of Thrones, hoping that I wouldn’t wake up to the feeling of it crawling on my dick.
into a being that is 90% scorching desperation sweat and 10% self-loathing.