Might of the Moth

[Ice Cream Jonsey]

(In celebration of me leaving the job below, which I was just starting, I will re-print this from the old Knight Orc Home Page. Originally written June 8th, 1999.)



I thought I had seen everything this state had to offer -- I'd been in Colorado ten months, after all. I've met and abused its women (and was sure to get them Head & Shoulders for gifts -- they are all giant flakes), I've experienced many of their jobs (from Storage Tek to Cyrix and to, uh, well, back to Cyrix again) and driven on its beautiful highways (and been cut-off, badly, daily, on them as well).

I wasn't prepared for "Moth Day."

Nobody told me anything about this. These people live like this, every single year! It's incredible. Last night I didn't want any crap from the roommates when it came to me getting my car out of the driveway. I had just started working again and figured that it might be easy for them to forget this fact and block me in. So I positioned the Neon toward the end of the driveway. I should mention that a giant tree is directly to the left of our driveway. As in, you can't open your door more than a crack if you park it next to that tree. But I had to be in that spot so I parked it, assumed gaseous form like the rest of my pale-skinned vampire kin and went indoors. It was lovely out and for whatever reason I forgot to fully close my driver's side window before locking up the car. I awarded myself a sloppy virtual Slurpee and went to bed.

I woke the next day to an absolutely beautiful morn. Leprechauns and faeries were dancing in the street. I greeted the paperboy. "And in case I don't see you later, good afternoon and good evening." Ha ha ha. I vaguely noticed a couple flying insects in the driveway.

It is here where younger readers of the Knight Orc Home Page should probably click on the banner and find something more relaxing to read, like the story about the cadaver in the middle of the road. Chix, too. Not just kids.

At least 300 screaming moths were rustled from their uneventful slumber to a screaming, frantic assjack shoo-ing them away. Hundreds of the little bastards managed to find their way into my car while I was asleep. Apparently they all "hatch" or at least get active on this particular day. EVERY FUCKING YEAR. It was like Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds." Only instead of being pecked to death I was swarmed by little mothras. They found crevices of my car that I didn't know existed. Hell, they found crannies in my car that Lee Iacocca himself would be hard pressed to admit familiarity. All of the moths wanted one thing: escape. Er, except for those that still wanted to sleep. In my, as I mentioned, car.

Well, until the moths form a union, get jobs and pay their share to Bank One each month they don't get voting, sleeping, eating or habitation rights. I got the broom (that will eventually be used in Buffalo Sabres vs. Dallas Stars conversations) and went to town. The moths apparently decided they didn't like that very much and many of them got the hint. Many, however, did not.

There's not some guy with a stop watch keeping track of when I get to work like that fat gym instructor we all had when we were running the 600-yard dash, but at the same time I am just starting a new job this week so I wanted to be there before, say, noon. I therefore got in the car and proceeded up the road. The unwelcome rash of fresh air was news to many of the moths and they were flailing about, trying to get out as best they could. Nevertheless, I am driving down Mulberry Street and dozens of them are getting out of my car and now attacking my fellow drivers. Okay, this I must admit was kind of cool. It's like those cars in South Africa you read about on the Urban Legends pages which are said to be equipped with mini flame-throwers because 1 in ever 6 cars are stolen over there. The Neon's anti-theft device (aside from the seat being testicle-crushingly close to the dash) is now apparently a deathswarm of militant, confused flying insects. Get too close, cut me off or don't signal properly and I shall unleash my hoary host of minions upon ye!

But. Anyway. Looks like everyone else who lives here is cool with all this. They probably didn't leave their windows open. All I can say is that it's another two months before I've seen everything here and I'm wondering what's next. I'm guessing that on June 21st the recently deceased rise again and walk the street going from house to house begging for Preparation H. On July 4th I'd wager that everyone buys rockets and flares in Wyoming and instead of pointing them at the sky, they instead point them at each other's houses. And most likely on July 31st there is a virgin sacrifice off Pike's Peak -- to appease The Mighty Pike who is a vengeful and spiteful God. But then again it is said, quite piously that if "thou canst get it on July 30th, 'tis time to smite thy flaccid and useless genitalia." So wish me luck there.

[Ice Cream Jonsey]

A follow-up to this: there were still moth corpses in my car up until the day I totaled it, in June of 2002. Some were revealed when I ran half of it into the guy in front of me on Prospect Road.

[Adeptus Astartes]

(In celebration of me leaving the job below, which I was just starting, I will re-print this from the old Knight Orc Home Page. Originally written June 8th, 1999.)

Where can we find more of these amusing articles?

[milker]

The Mothman.

I could seriously see you as a Moth Robb.

If you were a Moth, would you fly into a bowl of soapy water?

Remember I told you that trick. You put a bowl of soap water under a light and they fly into it.

[milker]

You should make a game with this activity in mind.

It could be a mobile phone game.

It would be like space invaders kind of.

You would have a light, bowl of soapy water and then moths that randomly fly around.

The game would consist of properly positioning the soapy water bowl and the light to attract the moths. When these items are properly lined up, the moth will fly into the water and you score big points.

Powerups could consist of a fly swatter, higher power soapy water, brighter lights, or a sawed off shotgun hand on the wall nah nah nah nah naaa nanaaaaaaa.

Lets do it.

This game idea:

Copyrights : Milkunits Studios

Call me, millions are waiting. (Millions of Moths)

[chris]

Well, I guess moths really ARE attracted to FLAMES.

[milker]

Ok, you are in Chris.

Robb, mark Chris down as a benefactor for this game venture.

His idea of fighting Moths with flames in our game would be a solid contribution.

When doing up, up, down, down, a, b, a, Start, You would become of Orkin man status equipped with a flame thrower gun. You will have to kill a certain numbers of Moths within a set time, or your gun would be transformed to a candle.

Miller Moth Mayhem v. 1.0

[milker]

Blinded by the lighttttt,

Miller moths goin in the soapy water, with just a little light.....



Or


Blinded by the light,

Wrapped up like a douche, like a boner in the night.