Interview With a Bedbug
As part of our ongoing series of conversations with animals on policy and population control issues, we recently sat down with Warren, a bedbug about to step onto a bean-leaf in Murray Hill.
Us: Hi, Warren, why don’t you come sit down over here?
Warren: Sure, just let me…hm…wait a second.
Us: Take your time!
Warren: Something about this doesn’t feel right.
Us: No? It’s just us. (shows hands)
Warren: (cautiously steps forward)
Us: GOTCHA, YOU SON OF A BITCH!
Warren: (turns to run, gets hopelessly entangled in the hooks of the bean leaf)
Us: GROW OLD AND DIE THERE, I CARE NOTHING FOR YOUR PLEAS.
Warren: You’ll never take me alive, you dirty rat!
Us: You think I haven’t planned this for years? How it would go? What I would say? What I would wear?
Warren: You weren’t so brave when you were putting everything you owned in bags in the freezer. When you cried, and put the feet of your bed into jars of Vaseline. When you missed a bunch of big summer movies because you were too scared to sit in theater seats. Where was your bravado then?
Us: That was then, and this is now. Who knew it would be so simple? So simple.
Warren: Is this really you, though? Will you be able to live with yourself? Are you so cold-blooded as all that?
Us: I thought my blood was warm, Warren. That’s what you said. Isn’t that why you loved me? My warm blood? Can you taste it now, I wonder?
Warren: It was never personal. You know that.
Us: Oh, Warren, I disagree. I think it was very personal.
Warren: Are you going to leave?
Us: Do you want me to?
Warren: No. Stay, would you? Please stay. Until it’s over.
Us: I will. I’ll be right here.
Warren: The actor hasn’t learned the lines you’d like to hear / He’s sad for his people, sad to be defeated / By his own weak body.
Times passes. The rays of the sun move slowly across the floor. The struggling stops. The body relaxes.
Us: (bends over, kisses his head softly, leaves to start our new life)