An unwelcomed passenger
How it happened:
It was a Tuesday. Melissa had accompanied me to the park at the end of my block and she stared, in utter shock, while I began to flail about foolishly as if struck by a sudden burst of lunacy. I had been struck; given a blow to the head that sounded comparable to a bullet. And then I realized it: he was in. Trapped as it were, and unwelcome. I could hear the fluttering of wings inside my head and could not shake it out. No matter how hard I tried it was useless. The bug was stuck. I jabbed at my left ear with each of my fingers, trying to scratch out anything; a leg, feeler, antenna, ANYTHING that I could. But it was no use - he'd flown too far in. Angels wrestled in my skull as the poor thing struggled to escape and then, slowly, gave up. I was horrified. I had spent my life in fear of bugs yet never, in my most distubing of nightmares, had I imagined that one might fly into my ear, become stuck there and slowly die. And still, thank God he did. What else could I have hoped for to settle the unease caused by the possibility of offspring? Eggs? Little baby bugs? In my ear? It seemed illogical but then... why not? Perhaps it would feast at the inner workings of my canal and be quite content with its new home for the remainder of its days -- listening in on my conversations, hearing my innermost secrets. Believe me, nothing seems far-fetched when you have an insect lodged into your cranium. No one would give me shit over it either; I had been traumatized.
So today, when I sat down to dinner on the patio with my parents in a fitted cap which my father kindly complimented, I simply needed reply, "in case," for him to understand and nod in solemnity.