It's Move-In Day!
This Bugtime Story explores the horrors of moving...
What’s up, Bad Bugs?
I have the horrific task of moving this week while keeping my 7 kids out of the way. I decided to vent my frustration with a little Bugtime Story:
“Don’t drop anything!” Ned’s dad said.
“I won’t, Mr. Hutchinson!” I replied with a smirk.
It was Move-In Day at the college, and my new roommate’s dad enlisted me to help unload their trailer—as if I wasn’t busy enough with my own shit (I wasn’t fortunate enough to have parents and a trailer full of crap—I had to bring what little I had in the back of my hatchback). Still, I didn’t want to make a bad first impression on someone I’d be sharing such close quarters with for the next nine months, so I “gladly” stepped up.
Ned didn’t talk much. He was quiet and almost standoffish, unlike his rather bombastic father. Honestly, I didn’t mind, given how small our room was—but it definitely made the unloading of the trailer more awkward than it needed to be. All he had really said to me so far was that his parents didn’t like to leave him alone. Ned was dressed in a polo and slacks, as if Move-In Day was some formal occasion. I guess he wanted everyone to know he was a prep from the start.
After about thirty minutes of what seemed like never-ending stuff, I started to wonder how in the hell they expected everything to fit in our room. Each of the boxes was labeled with a Sharpie in tight, clean handwriting—probably from Ned’s Mom, I expected. The funny part, though, was how they were labeled: kitchen, bedroom, office, etc. It was as if they expected him to be moving into a house and not a single-room dorm.
“Ned!” his father called after him as he dipped inside the door carrying a desk lamp. “Ned, the box! Ned!”
But Ned was out of earshot, leaving his father to hold the last box by himself. The large man had a slight look of panic on his face.
“Mr. Hutchinson, I can take it,” I said.
“N-no that’s alright,” he nearly whispered. “I’ll wait for Ned to come back.”
“Really, I can get it,” I said.
Ned’s Father handed me the small box. He was shaking as he put it in my hands. In the same handwriting as all the others, the top read: Handle With Care. I took it and rushed into the building without looking back at the suddenly nervous man. It must have been some family heirloom or something, though why they would send it with a college kid, I had no idea.
Once I was on the third floor, I turned left and found our room four doors down on the right. Inside, Ned was nowhere to be found, though I supposed he could have been hidden behind the massive pile of boxes that seemed to fill half of the room. Without really thinking, I tossed the last one on the bed. As it landed on the mattress, I heard what sounded like a faint hiss come from inside the box.
“Shit,” I cursed. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I quickly grabbed the box and held it to my ear. The hissing sound wasn’t as loud, but I could still hear it, almost rhythmically, from inside the box. What if I had broken whatever it was? I panicked and grabbed a box cutter. There was still no sign of Ned. I wasn’t sure what to do.
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That’s all for this time - check back next week for the conclusion to our Bugtime Story!
Bugs and Kisses,
Kris and the Bad Bug crew
