BUGGED

     Ah, the joys of summer.  Vacation, cookouts, leisurely swims in a nearby river and the untimely ingestion of insects.  All ingestion of insects is of course untimely, but it is of some comfort to at least know that the possibility of swallowing the six legged pests exists.  Unfortunately for me, I haven't had the luxury of said swallowing with any shred of foreboding that it was going to happen.
My mouth has apparently become quite an attractive landing strip for a wide variety of arrogant bugs this summer.
    One of our favorite things to do in the warm months is to hop onto the four-wheeler and head across the hay field behind our house and into the woods in search of red raspberries.  They are a delicacy for sure.  Last week, Sidney, our daughter and I set out with containers in hand to pick said berries.  "You know what I like most about the red raspberries?  They're not covered in insects like black berries.  It's like their red color repels bugs," I said, while dropping another handful into my container.
     "Yeah, I think you're right," Sidney answered with a mouthful of the tart tasting morsels.
     Up until that point, I'd never eaten a Japanese Beetle.  Suddenly, and without warning a very noisy and bothersome shiny green beetle buzzed squarely into my mouth.  It didn't do the decent thing and land toward my lips or on the front of my tongue.  The nasty thing touched down a mere millimeter from my tonsils and taxied around for a bit before coming to rest next to my left rear molar. Immediately, a violent reflex arc forced me to hack and cough and shake violently.  Sidney, who was standing next to me shrieked with laughter.  "Oh my gosh!  A beetle just flew into your mouth!"
    "Acck, cough haaaaack, ugh!" were a few of the sounds emanating from deep within my body.
     I don't remember seeing the rascally insect being ejected from my mouth, so apparently it resided briefly in my digestive tract, or worse, it's crawling around in my lungs looking for a place to raise a family of mini beetles.
     There's no doubt that I'm getting my daily allowance of protein.  I watch the many survival shows on television and laugh at the characters on those shows and how they pretend to be "real" men by surviving on a variety of bugs for days on end.  "I ate more bugs than that mowing the yard," I said to my wife who was ignoring me and the show.  "Big whoop, he just ate a termite.  Lets see him inhale a Japanese Beetle!  Then he can preach to me," I continued.
     Last night, after a long day at work, I ate, showered, and carried a very tall and cold glass of ice water to the deck to join my family, who were lounging carelessly in the waning daylight.
    "How was your day?" my wife asked, without looking up from the book she was reading.
    "Well, it was very long and stressful.  To begin with..." and then it happened.  Apparently, once again, my pie hole was just too appealing to resist and another wayward and extremely imposing critter of the night sky glided gently into my mouth.
     "Acckk, haaaack, scrrrrrch," came the chorus of sounds echoing from my throat.
     "What in the world?  Are you ok?" Kristi asked.  She tilted her head to the left and then to the right, sure that my heart had finally given up.
     "Bug flew into my mouth!" I gargled, barely audible.  "Can't get it out!"
     The kids had begun to laugh hysterically, while I attempted to drink a sip of water.
     Ryan rose from his seat and headed my way.  "Open up, let me look."
     I opened my mouth and to my astonishment, the boy began to go into some sort of fit that I'd never seen.  He was unable to speak momentarily, and trembled all over.  Finally, he spoke.  "Lightning bug."
     "Lightning bug?!!!" Kristi asked, with a huge smile and subtle laughter bubbling from deep within.
     "Yeah, it's a lightning bug.  It's on his uvula," the kid exclaimed through yet another fit of laughter.  "And it's blinking!"
     This was truly a first.  I had never in my forty-five years had a live, blinking lightning bug fly into my mouth, let alone land on my uvula and start marshaling other insects in with it's glowing yellow beacon.
     Sidney raced over to my side, excitedly preparing to take a picture to post on instagram.  "Dad, open wide.  I have to have a picture of this!"
     The whole episode lasted approximately twenty seconds, but seemed much longer.  I mean, how many people can say that they've had a lightning bug land on that little dangly thing in the back of their throat?
     As with the beetle, I'm not sure if the little bug was coughed out, swallowed, or inhaled.  But one thing is for sure.  It's not doing laps on my uvula anymore.
     I'm considering wearing a dental mask each time I exit the house.  But then again, maybe I won't.  Just think about how much protein I'd be giving up by not swallowing all those bugs.