The Gecko Chronicles Continue

As you can imagine, I'm still a lil' shaken up since the poop in the cereal incident. Before that, the gecko drama had been slowly building for a while, but that day sort of sealed the deal. I no longer think that these creatures are cute or endearing of any sort.

I'm over them.

What I didn't tell you last week was that something tragic happened at our home a few days after the "incident". I've been holding it back out of fear of judgment and PETA coming to bust down our door. But I think it's time I opened up about it.

I killed one.

On purpose.

And it was ugly. I didn't take pictures because it was a grizzly scene. And ya know what?

It felt awesome. (Not in a pre-serial killer kind of way, but more of a "Hey, your friend took a huge dump in my breakfast and I'm not cool with it" kind of way.)

The story goes as such: Remember the guy that lived in Aaron's bathroom?

Well, I can't be positively sure if it was him, but it looked a lot like him.

I went into Aaron's bathroom while he was still gone to do some tidying up so that I could improve my running in the Wife of the Year category (not really, but it sounds nice). As I entered the bathroom, that creature jumped out of his hiding spot under the window trim and scared the frickin' crap out of me. Because this happened like two days after the Poop Loop incident (thank you Gordon for coining that phrase for us), I was a little high on rage. Basically, I'd just had enough. I'd had enough fear, poop, reptiles, and crawly things that whole week. I was done.

So I started throwing Aaron's size US 14 shoes at him.

I managed to knock him off the wall and do little else but scare him really well.

But that just wasn't enough for me. I retrieved more shoes and kept chucking them at the little Geico mascot.

Finally, five shoes later, I grazed his side and immobilized him.

That is when the rage came to a head.

I took Aaron's big military, steel-toed work boot and slammed it down on him.

It wasn't pretty.

But revenge is a dish best served cold.

It's all fun and games until someone eats a bowl of poop. Am I right?

So anyways, after that day I thought that I'd feel better and things would calm down around here.

The geckos had other plans. Apparently their threshold for revenge is much larger than my own.

I don't know what happened when I crushed that reptile two weeks ago, but I can only guess that his whole family heard his little gecko screams that night.

Since that day, I've found three new geckos inside our house. A record, even for us.

It's made my gecko disdain into what is now becoming an obsession. I can't let it go either.

Whenever I find one now, I stalk it, photograph it and dispose of it. Like I said, I'm done with them.

Here are the current, documented perpetrators:

Gecko A:
Location found: On our kitchen floor (The mess around him are the things I unsuccessfully threw at him to scare him off. Obviously, it didn't work.)

Did you notice the Satanic glowing eyes? I did too.

Current residence: In the jungle behind our flat (Aaron flung him back there with a broom after I refused to leave the kitchen until he was gone.)


Gecko B:

Location found: The backsplash in the kitchen.

Current residence: Heaven. (An unfortunate misunderstanding of where the tea kettle was being placed is to blame. Mwah ha ha ha ha.)


Gecko C:

Location found: Scaling the living room wall.

Current residence: He is injured and hiding under my couch as I type. I knocked him off the ceiling with a broom and magically, the fall somehow did not kill him. The bugger scurried under the furniture before my broom could squash him.

It's a very frustrating battle I'm faced with.

I just told Aaron the whole sordid tale of my latest conquest and he was not at all willing to help.

He just shook his head and said, "You are a forest fire."

You know what? I like that. I'm going to adopt that mantra for my life in general.