Enough is enough.
I’m up to my ears in stink bugs.
They’re EVERYWHERE. Including the one I found in my bed, under my covers, nestling under my tree-tattooed leg like it was a fuzzy branch.
WHERE DID THEY COME FROM?
Until last year, I had NEVER seen a stink bug before, and now they basically materialize under my limbs, buzz between the blinds on my window, and think that they can just LIVE IN MY HOME.
Excuse me, Mr. Stink Bug, but you do NOT pay my rent, therefore you do not have a place to live. Not under my roof. I’m at risk of sounding like my father here, but if you choose to live under my roof, you shall play by my rules. AND MY RULES DICTATE THAT YOU CANNOT LIVE HERE.
This apartment is not big enough for the both of us. And since my name is the rent check, yous gots ta go, bro.
Plus, you stink. I can’t have this type of witchcraft and debauchery occurring on my watch. No. I will not.
You being here, ON MY LEG, is making me feel very oppressed.
MEMO TO ALL STINK BUGS: I AM NOT YOUR HOME. I WILL SLAY YOU. WINTER IS COMING!