And yes, it all ties up. Here's how: I'd hoped the LXG would be helping. Except where are they when you need them? Trapped in the TV screen, that's where.
Suspend disbelief, they say. That's all nice and well, but when I do suspend my disbelief in the hope that, oh I don't know, say Dante will be swooping to the rescue to kill the beast with the help of all those many fancy weapons they're using in the movie, and it doesn't happen, what does it tell me? That all this suspending disbelief thing is a crock. And I'm bitterly disappointed. I would have shown my gratitude to Dante. Probably less so to the invisible man, but for Dante... I might even have cooked.
And I've never seen an insect like that. Which doesn't necessarily mean much, because as soon as bugs of the flying category are in my immediate vicinity, my vision gets all blurry, my speech becomes ever so slightly irrational, my voice goes one octave higher, and I lose all common human characteristics.
And the bugger that has presently invaded my privacy, all winged and stuff, because I wouldn't really care that much if it was just a creepy-crawley, has stuck itself on a part of the wall that I, being stump-legged and - oh great, now Dorian Gray's gone all dust to dust and ashes to ashes - all of three apples tall, can't reach: it's very small, but obviously cunning enough that it knew that by perching atop my books, it would be safe from my fury, which fear has decupled (or is it the other way around? I certainly feel more scared than furious right now. Anyway.).
My skin is all itchy, I feel like a thousand of the bastards have decided to launch an Anschluss of my body. I'm never going to sleep now. Well of course: what if it flies all the way to my room? Granted, considering its size, it's probably the equivalent in effort of Berlin-Vienna on foot, but it might decide to rest on my face, once it gets there. And even if it chooses to rest on a wall in my room, it might just, once refreshed, think it'll be fun to go on an exploration of my nostrils, for instance. Is there a way that it can go from my nose to my brain in one nifty little flight? Because I can tell you right now, I couldn't take the buzzing in my head.
I mean, like I need the buzzing in my head.