the evil returns

I was on my way out the door when I saw it:

A centipede. Young and fast.

So you know what I did?

I caught it. As the saying goes, youth and speed are no match for age and cleverness.

I used two things in the catch: a plastic jar and the book I happened to be holding: The Myth of Christian Uniqueness. (Bad title, by the way; interreligious discussions have never centered on the issue of Christian uniqueness, but on that of normativity.) Slammed the jar over the centipede, slipped the thin paperback cover under the opening, then lifted and flipped the bottle. I rock.

The centipede is pissed. It looks like a contender. With the proper training, I'll have it whipping the ass of Jeff's lizard on a daily basis. A daily diet of torture, death metal, and porn will drive it to the brink of madness. By the time it finishes its sessions with Pai Mei and the reprogrammers from A Clockwork Orange, my new centipede'll be able to burn holes into new monuments on the Washington, DC Mall with just its stare.

Off to Wolmido. Then: laundry. Maybe I'll order a pizza, assuming the pizza place is open. An exciting finish to what's turned out to be a very restful vacation.

_