You won't believe what my husband just did. There was this horrible looking bug — I don't know what it was, but it had LEGS and a BODY and I swear it was going to maybe crawl on me. It was in the garage, but it could have crawled into the kitchen at any minute so I asked him to take care of it.
And you know what he did? HE KILLED IT!
I saw the whole thing. I hid safely behind him as he walked over and stepped on it. Like it was nothing.
It's dead. Because of him.
That's the problem with men these days. They solve everything with death. What do we do with Iran? What's this movie about? What do we do with grandpa? It's all death to him.
I just imagine that poor little guy getting smooshed. He probably had a family. Friends. Hopes. Dreams. Now it's all just dust in the wind.
I remember reading Charlotte's Web when I was eight. I'm terrified of spiders, but I understand the worth those creatures have. They have a wisdom pigs can appreciate. Just because I didn't want this bug in my house, didn't mean I wanted my husband to commit BUG MURDER. What if it was meant for bigger things, like teaching a pig how to cope with the inevitability of death on a farm?
I'm sorry, I can't right now. I'm literally crying.
Every hour a racist loses hope, will you help the Southern Poverty Law Center to help a racist in need?
