BedBugs

My name is Under D. Rug and I am a bedbug. I have lived a fairly good life, until a new problem entered my world. I try so hard every day to scurry away from the crushing footsteps of the humans that thrive in the home I love so much. They think I’m so horrible because I enjoy biting their succulent flesh and drinking their wonderfully warm blood but I’m just living like them. I have to eat to. How can they expect me to live without eating and without making my home in their beautifully patterned bedding? It’s not like I’m trying to create problems for them. I just want to have a happy life and respectable home. It’s not easy being a bedbug. I live in constant fear of being stepped on or swept away into the dust pan of doom. Every time the broom comes out, fear ignites within me and I go into overload trying to create a survival strategy. Although the broom is horrific, my biggest enemy is the dreaded exterminator. Just the mention of those frightening beings is tragic. I dread the day that that murderer enters this house. That truly would be the end of me.