In the dead of the night, I see a waif (my sister) standing at the door, waving her hand for me to come. She looks mildly like an apparition, with her dishevelled hair and woeful face. So I follow her.
She leads me to her room, stands at her door, gestures at her curtain at the other end of the room, and goes “beetle”.
Now, the curtain is a deep red with some curly-wurly pattern. Spotting a beetle amidst all that going on, is just tough. So I squinted. She took two steps forward and pointed even more vigorously.
I stepped forward, and saw the little brown thing, perched on the curtain, higher than what I can comfortably reach. If I miss, the thing could fall into my mouth.
What does the waif do? She jumped into bed, hugged her cushion, and whimpered.
Fantastic. So it’s Mimosa vs. beetle.
I reach up to grab the beetle. It climbs even higher.
So I tip-toe, clamp my mouth shut, pull the curtain and grab the poor little fella. Off it went into the toilet bowl for a crash-course in whirlpool swimming.
Mimosa – 1 : Beetle – 0
Mimosa. Call me sister, friend, beetle-killer.