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Staring at my laptop computer screen, I see ants crawling along as if I don’t know they’re there. They’ve invaded my computer. It feels like the opening scene of a twisted horror movie when, at the climactic final showdown, a dragon comes out of a guy’s PC keyboard and bites his head off, and then vomits out the guy and all the bugs he devoured while inside the PC.
These bugs on my screen are attracted like magnets to all the food crumbs crammed in the crevices between the keyboard of the laptop. In there, they’ve found a three-year supply of tiny morsels of glazed donuts, McDonald’s French fries, Barbecue Fritos, Zingers, and all other kinds of junk food you can think of, along with the remnants of sticky and sweet spillage of Dr. Pepper, Caramel Frappes, and Fanta Grape Soda.
If I were a bug and hungry and had a sweet tooth and salt addiction, I would find my way to my laptop because it’s the mecca for all the most sugary and salty munchies ever produced.
Though I haven’t checked because I don’t know anything about computers, it’s a virtual lock that there are plenty more critters crawling around underneath my keyboard, congregating on the circuit board, sniffing and nibbling while hanging out on memory chips.
Those stuffed with food are scurrying on their way, making a not well thought out getaway, running for their lives across my laptop screen, thinking this is their domain but, because they’re stupid, not showing sound judgment.
How many bugs are lodged in there, you wonder? Not five, not ten, more like 35.
In this colony, I conjecture they aren’t just garden-variety ants. There must be some termites in there, and ladybugs, and potato bugs, and probably some flies and maybe a tiny rat or two. They’re all there, munching away on the greatest snack feast any of them has ever come across, in a slice of real estate no bigger than a TV tray. All there for the taking.
The bugs find mounds of food morsels bigger than most of them. It would be like me coming across a Twinkie the size of Shaquille O’Neill. How happy that would make me, so nourished and fulfilled and decadent. A Twinkie festival it would be. Total glee.
For the most part, I’m fine with having a bug battalion intimately close to me every day. But I have one minor concern. It’s that some of these bugs could be mating, laying eggs around to be fertilized, mounting each other, or dialing up whatever the specific reproductive techniques are that suit their bug instincts.
If this is happening, the population of bugs in my computer is bound to exponentially grow and then what would that mean?
More bugs roaming around, finding their own space not just underneath the keys but on top of the keys due to overcrowding. While typing I would have no other option than to smash them to get my work done.
This would lead to more greasy keys than I already have, bug guts and their inner juices and body parts smeared all over the keys and my fingers, which would mean I would have to go to the bathroom to wash the guts off my fingers more often, which would cut into my productivity, which my boss would notice and frown upon, which would lead him thinking of ways to write a bad performance review, which would create the paper trail they would need to show our corporate lawyers that would give the attorneys the documented arsenal to tell me my last day of work is next Friday.
This I don’t need. But I don’t want to stop eating food and dropping crumbs onto the keyboard that draws bugs from 50 nearby yards to come to this delicious chow fest.
What we have here is yet another of life’s many conundrums. You gain in one sense but lose in another. You know what to do to solve the problem but lack the self-discipline to do it. You’re not clean. You know it. But you don’t have the toughness to change your ways.
You compromise. You hedge. You see how far you can stretch things before they break and everything comes crashing down on top of your head, ending your job, kicking you onto the street.
Why does life have to be so difficult? Why can’t the bugs just keep eating my crumbs and I keep eating junk food?
Why can’t that just be the way things are with no negative repercussions? Do things like this bug you? Do bugs bug you?
I say this: blame the bugs for all our problems.
Bug off, you damn bugs.
Go get your own junk food.
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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