It happened again.
We took another walk tonight.
A walk, no running, this time.
I had my mouth slightly agape.
I was breathing, you know.
With a slightly agape mouth.
But a bug doesn't need much room
as it turns out.
A bug flew in.
Straight shot past the teeth.
It high-fived my dangly gagger
(otherwise known as a uvula.)
And landed in my throat.
I had no choice but to swallow.
This ain't my first rodeo, after all.
I swallowed and swallowed.
(Do you know anyone as brave as me?)
And then dry heaved.
Phantom Bug strikes again.
I can still feel him
perched at the top of my throat,
calling for help from his bug friends,
hanging on for dear life,
channeling the spirit of Jonah to inspire him.
He isn't there, of course.
I swallowed him.
He's now drown among my watermelon
and other non-bug things I eat.
Somehow it doesn't matter that I know this.
He is still there.
The Phantom Bug will always be there.
There was a thirty-something woman
who swallowed a mosquito? gnat? firefly?
I think she'll die.