The Lady Bug Killer



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There was a family of 6 living around the corner from us back when I was a little girl.

There was the Mom, the Dad and four girls- four stuck up, prissy and the most un-fun having humans that ever walked the face of the Earth.

My friend Bonnie and my other friend Laurie were always getting tattled on by the Four Sisters- and as it went we always came down on the wrong side of things so the three of us always ended up getting into trouble.

They told on us when we would sneak across the street to Green Lake, when we would ride our wagon down these huge hills and end up in the middle of Aurora with cars whizzing by us as we tried to get out of the road and then they told on us the time we crawled in through a window at the school and drew all over the chalkboards in the 6th Grade Classrooms.

And there was the time we were accused of tying one of sister’s bikes to the tether ball pole at the playground and nobody could get the knots out so they had to use these giant garden shears to cut the rope.

Common sense would tell you that the combined strength of three six year old girls couldn’t have managed that, but we weren’t snitches so we never told on the boys who actually did it.

The three of us lost our bike and wagon privileges so we were not a happy group of Kindergarteners on the day of The Lady Bug Massacre.


On that day we were out WALKING to the playground because our wheels were locked up.

On that walk we passed the Four Sisters house.

The oldest sister was on the lawn putting those tassel things on the handle bars of her bike ( seeing her with that bike just unhinged me ) and the one close to us in age was standing at the edge of the yard with a jar.

” Want to see what I have?” she asked.

We kept walking. ” Hey you Brats, look at what I have.”

Bonnie turned around and asked what was in the jar.

” Lady Bugs.”

I went back to take a look. ”  Couldn’t you find any boy ones?”

” You’re so stupid.” She told me. ” Here Laurie,  look what I have.”

Laurie looked at me and Bonnie. ” You have to talk louder, she can’t hear very well.”

The older sister added, ” And she’s a Spaz right?”

I gave the older sister and her stupid bike the finger and she promptly ran straight to my house.

” Do you like my Lady Bugs?”

Bonnie said no, I agreed and then that little psycho walked to her garden hose, unscrewed the lid of the jar and started to fill it with water.

I was speechless, horrified and stunned. It felt like someone had just popped my lungs because I couldn’t take a breath. I had never seen anything so cruel in my short little life.

Bonnie, always the hero, ran over and grabbed the jar and tipped it over and freed the surviving lady bugs. I figured it was ok until Laurie started to cry.

It was just to much I guess.

I walked over to the Lady Bug Killer and punched her right in the nose and all of the sudden it was  like every door and window in her house exploded and her family comes running out and they’re screaming at me, at Bonnie and they screamed at Laurie too.

I knew it, I was busted, I was going to do hard time for the swearing, the punching, the and probably the slaugter of the Lady Bugs.

I stamped my foot and shouted loud enough for my Grandma to hear the next block over, ” You’re all Crazy…so fuck you! Fuck you, fuck your stupid yard and your dumb bikes and I hope those lady bugs fly up your noses and eat your brains…and for good measure I spelled it too ” F-U-C-K you!”

I grabbed Bonnie by her pony tail and Laurie by her hand and I pulled them both to my house where I was sure the Police would be and I was sure we’d never see our bikes again.


We didn’t even try to explain ourselves, the Sisters, their Parents and their Grandma who was about a million  years old ripped the three of us up one side and down the other.

They said we should be sent to Reform School or Catholic School or Dog Obedience but it was clear SOMETHING HAD TO BE DONE.

Our Parents all agreed.

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During my week long restriction I caught the flu and my Grandpa got babysitting duty- it was fine with me. He would bring comic books, let me watch whatever I wanted on TV and he didn’t bother me because he was one that believed a sick person does better when they can stay quiet and not get fussed over so much.

So we were sitting there watching a Soap Opera  that took place in the reception area of a hospital- I was fascinated with the elevator and the way people would dramatically exit and enter from it.

I went into hysterics when they did the close up shots of the actor’s faces and I used to try to copy them-mostly at dinner time or when I was supposed to be ‘paying attention.’

I didn’t even look at the tv until I heard that ping sound.

So between those riveting shots of the elevator my Grandpa asked was it true? Was I really the Devil’s Spawn? He was not amused by our neighbors but I did amuse him so he wasn’t mad.

Just curious about how I was going to answer.

” They think we’re Evil. But we’re not. I can prove it. Wait.” I jumped off the couch and ran upstairs to my bedroom and brought a loaded squirt gun back with me.

I held it up and showed it to my Grandpa and pointed it at my chest and squeezed the trigger.

He looked confused.

” It’s holy water.” I said

” Where did you get it from?”

I looked at the gun, the wet spot on my pajama top and sighed. ” Well. It’s not like they lock the doors to the Church and the water is just right there… never mind.” I said.

I crawled back up on the couch and waited for the elevator doors to open.