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And where we can observe him more closely. He is, to put it mildly, a hooter girls behemoth. The subject of legends, of folklore. He stands nearly six inches, hooter girls with antennae which add another six inches. We notice a scar running along one of his hooter girls legs, from the knee down. When he looks, we can see where he is looking. We can make out the consternation on his face. A single bead of sweat breaks on his forehead and falls, plunking into the Maxwell House Coffee can. ÒWhere did I enter from?Ó He says to himself, angry at himself for having lost the way. ÒWhere did I enter from? I was sure it was from over here!Ó From where she stands, my mother raises the shoe like a gunman taking aim. The insect has no choice but to move, caught in the crosshairs. My mother raises the shoe higher. The insect moves more quickly, scurrying further along the counter, and then down into the sink, and then up the sink where he hangs upside down from the faucet.
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