The bug on my rug: Day 8

Midway through game six of the National League Championship Series, Karl the bug came out of his hole in the wall and strutted across the rug to a spot in the middle of the room in front of the television. Only, this time he wasn't alone. Following Karl was a gang of unsavory insects, the likes of which you might find in a back alley of the Bronx in the midst of a lengthy garbage strike. There were cockroaches and millipedes and crickets and pill bugs, and they walked around as if they owned this place.

"What the hell?" I murmured to myself. I didn't have any shoes on, which I realized pretty quickly, as instinct had me on my feet ready to start stomping. Karl and his entourage scattered when they sensed I might do them harm. Then as soon as I sat back down they gathered again in front of the television and did a little superiority dance to see if they could taunt me some more. These friends of Karl were not nice bugs.

I didn't take the bait. I decided to sit back and see what would happen next – on the carpet, not the baseball field. After all, I'm still rooting for the Chicago White Sox in the World Series. All that this evening's game would decide for me was who I would be rooting against. The Houston Astros had a comfortable lead and it appeared they would win the National League title on this night. The bugs on the rug were clearly thrilled by this. Every big play by the Astros was met with dancing and jumping (especially the crickets) and congratulatory mating. In the 8th inning, when the St. Louis batters went three and out, the bugs lined up in a row and did a tiny bug wave – with old Karl right in the middle, joining in the fun. This really surprised me because I was certain that Karl was a White Sox fan. What could possibly have changed in him to switch allegiances and, worse, to bring these bug thugs into our home?

The answer became clear when I leaned forward to get a better look at Karl. I couldn't believe my eyes. It wasn't Karl the beetle down there. This was a different beetle. It suddenly dawned on me what happened. I brought home the wrong bug from the Renaissance festival last weekend. I just assumed...I mean, what are the odds...Oh, what a mess.

But that meant Karl was still out there in rural Maryland fending for himself at the Renaissance fairgrounds. And who was this beetle? When I was finally able to get a close enough look, I realized that the new beetle looked like Karl, too. Only a different Karl. Not Karl Malden, but Karl Rove.

The resemblance is amazing, don't you think? So this beetle would have to be called Karl as well. Karl II. Only not for long, I hoped. The bugs scattered as I got up from my chair and went looking for my shoes.