No quarter given

1:15AM - just after the harrowing encounter.

I had gone downstairs to turn out the lights Dan left on in his man-cave, and was just about ready to head up for the night. On the way up I made a stop to use the facilities, and was lost in thought when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye - quick, furtive, darting, low movement across the doorway, towards the kitchen.

My nemesis.

There's no mistaking that scurry - that tan/gold blur of hate - the reckless disregard of nearby human presence.

I finished up and looked left and right before exiting the bathroom, to size up the location of my foe and make sure that he wasn't waiting to ambush my toes as I crossed the threshold. Curse him for matching the color of that damned carpeting the landlady installed before we moved in!

I grabbed my trusty weapon - my hockey stick - which is always nearby to provide convenient protective space between me and the object needing smushing. I started towards my many-legged foe after being sure that it was him laying low and not a dust bunny. I was about to do him in with the butt-end when I realized I'd probably never want to handle the stick again with that evil gore where my hands would touch.

Flipping the stick over, I poked tentatively at the beast with the toe of the blade, half afraid the jab would make him jump on me - centipedes, of course, possessing the magical ability to leap great distances when provoked (who doesn't know that?). After about the third try I managed to pluck up the courage to do him in, and then quickly scooped him up to toss his still-writhing bug husk out the window.

Now I am left with the pressing questions:

How did he get in?
Was he acting alone?
Was he on recon?
Will there be reinforcements?
What were his plans?
Will there be more in my boots in the morning? I swear he was headed towards them!
Why the hell does he need all those legs?

I may have won this round - but I fear the end may not yet be in sight. Tonight, dear kitty, you will need to be on your guard!

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