So I'm sitting outside for lunch at Oregano's in downtown Tempe when this huge, craw fish sized bug descends from the tree overhead and splashes down in the pool of garlic-butter surrounding my shrimp scampi. My lunch-mate recoils in obvious disgust as the creature attempts to lift off, but hangs up on the lip of the plate and tumbles into the ashtray where it becomes trapped by the apparent suction effect of buttered wings on glass. As it lay there in prone position, all eighteen or so legs working frantically but not in unison, I'm reminded of Kafka's Metamorphosis and how much I hated that book and how I just wanted to kill the disgusting man-bug and be done with it. Yeah, you guessed it - I missed the larger significance of the book and its meaning. To me Kafka was just a twisted old Austrian hop-head.
Nonetheless, with a final great effort, the monstrous tree bug flipped itself upright and began to vibrate. It sounded like a tiny Formula One Racer or an old Yamaha trail bike wrapped way too tight. Soon, it began to hover and careen ominously from side to side.
Until I flipped out and stuck a fork in it.
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