Ick.

As I was sitting at the computer in my basement, I happened to realize that I had an insect on my arm. So I tried to brush it off, and it stuberly remained stuck in my flesh. I promptly went up to my mother and told her to get it off of me, being that where if had chosen to locate itself onmy arm wasn't provideing much leverage.

After she had tried to brush it off as well, and had identified it as a tick, she sent me up to my dad for him to remove it. He told me to get some alchol, and after a false start to get the rubbing alchol that was really hydrogen peroxide, he dragged me to the bathroom to dump copious amounts of moutwash on my arm.

But the bug remained fast. Then my mom supplied some solarcaine to spray, which while stinging even though the only wound on my arm was otherwise occupided, did not make the critter withdraw.

Then she brought out the matches.

When my dad held the lit match to my arm, I starting freaking out. I don't like being near hot things, since I have a tendency to burn myself. Also the whole, my arm was recently soaked in alchol thing gave me visions of my elbow going up like the fouth of july. But the fire didn't work either, even though by that time the bug was most defintialy dead.

Mom then gave him a misquito wipe, which loosed it enough that Dad could pull it out.

Then I helpfuly supplied that if I had known it was a blood sucking fiend, I would have killed it the first time I saw it on the carpet. Then they had asked me where I'd been that I brought a tick home. The only place that I could think of was the mowed section of the vacent lots I go though on St. Charles on the way home from school. But that grass is only ankle high, so... I don't really know where.

I'm also been ordered to watch the area for rashes from Lyme's disease. Or the crazy hallutionations.