Page 41 of Lovebug
“Yeah, sometimes she decapitates himbeforethey mate.”
We’re a few hours into our girls’ night, and true to their word, my friends have ditched the intervention, and we’re just having fun. We’ve shifted into the portion of the evening where they fire bug-related questions at me, allowing me to both delight and horrify them.
I find myself in this position more often than I can count, and it’s pretty much my favorite thing. Let it be known: peoplesaythey hate bugs, but they love learning about them and their wild ways.
“Hahahaha, ohmygosh! Oh, you kill me!” Calliope clearly thinks I’ve said something preposterous.
“I’m serious, though.”
“Whaaaaat?” three voices say in chorus.
“Yeah. Sometimes, it’s the very first thing she does when they come in contact.”
“Then how do they…? I mean, why would she…? But how can he still…?”Calliope is sputtering.
“Oh, his body can still copulate even after decapitation,” I explain.
“SHE SCREWS A HEADLESS BUG!?” Calliope screeches.
“Volume, Calliope. Volume,” Lou says, looking around to see if we’re garnering attention.
“Yup, she does!” I say with cheer. “Well, I guess if you want to get specific, the headless bug screwsher. She really just stands there while he does his thing. Really fascinating stuff.”
“But he’s… dead. Right?” Cyndi asks with her eyes wide.
“Sort of? See, at this point, his body is still capable of movement and activity. He’s stimulated by nerves in his abdomen, which allow him to still… how should I say… ‘get the job done’ so to speak. The beheading actually sparks more spasmsandmore sperm. So he may be headless and on his way to imminent death, but as far as virility goes? He’s the winner winner chicken dinner.”
Three slack jaws hang open.
“Incredible, huh?” I beam.
“Incredible,” Calliope mumbles. “Yeahhhhh.”
Her eyes are glazed over, and she looks like she’s about to barf. Lou hands her a glass of water. “Take a sip, Callie. You’re looking a little green. Hey, Mabel, I heard something about the praying mantis the other day that you might not know.”
“Oh, really,” I say with a hint of cockiness. Cockiness is certainly not my natural state by any means, but the one thing I am supremely confident about is my bug knowledge.
“Yes. I heard that you see a praying mantis when you’re most in need of guidance.”
“What?” I say and scrunch up my forehead.
“The praying mantis appears when we’ve lost the ability to hear the small, quiet voice within. He encourages us to reclaim our truth and reminds us that we can adjust to any situation, no matter how painful.”
“Oh,” I say, lost for words, remembering how I just saw one the other day. “Wow, they didn’t teach methatin any of my biology or zoology classes! Hahaha! Thanks for sharing, Louise!”
Why am I laughing? And why do I suddenly feel like my face is ten shades of pink?
“So I have a question,” Cyndi announces after a quick gulp of her beer. “What’s the deal with that?”
“What’s the deal with what?” I ask.
“I’m stuck on the beheading thing. Does the dude mantis just not know that this is going to happen?” Cyndi wonders aloud. “Aren’t animals supposed to have instincts for this sort of thing?”
Calliope jumps in before I can. “Let’s say for argument’s sake that the mantisdoesknow. In fairness, what’s he going to do? Go through his whole life never having sex?”
“Good point. Duh. You’re right,” Cyndi agrees.
I feel myself instantly getting flustered.
