Beetle Battle

Every night, outside my apartment, beetles come out to play.  They are big and brown and hit against the door hard enough that is sounds like someone lightly knocking one time, like the most scaredy ding-dong-ditchers of all time with the possible exception of the ones who don’t even knock and instead be the lookout.  Fuck those kids, by the way.  What is he going to do, take out a passerby with a sniper rifle?  No, he just watches you get in trouble and then lives in fear for eight months that you’ll tell his dad.

In the morning I go outside and the beetles are always gone.  They disappear into whatever beetle dimension they live in (I’m guessing the open drain that is placed directly in front of my door for no fucking reason) and leave behind about half their beetle wings.

I do not understand what the fuck they’re doing out there?  Fighting?  Over what?  Who gets to be the best of the shitty brown beetles banging their horrible bodies against the door to my apartment?  Or maybe they’re fighting over a piece of raw chicken that was left out in the sun? Is that what beetles eat?  I have no fucking idea. 

It was once suggested to me that they fight for mating rights.  If someone told me that I could fight a bunch of other men, that I was likely to lose an arm, and that my ultimate reward would be the right to fuck a beetle, I think I would pass.

You can fly, idiots.  You can do one thing that humans have always dreamed of doing.  And what do you do with this power?  You spend the entire night smashing your head into my goddamn door while airborn.  Then you fall on your backs and wiggle your legs in the air for hours because your bodies are not designed to flip over.  How can beetles even believe in a god?  You were designed with bodies that are not meant to be flipped over, which is going to happen about 40,000 times in your life.  I promise you that.  You will be flipped over, and you will be goddamn miserable.  I’ve owned enough remote control cars to know how this sort of thing works.

And how come the birds are not out there eating all these beetles?  Everyone is giving this early bird the credit, meanwhile if he stayed up past 8 PM he could just walk around and pick up flipped beetles off the ground.  It would be like Shrimpfest at Red Lobster, but for birds.  I think the meat would be pretty much the same quality, though.

Birds, here is my suggestion:  Instead of trying to wake up the entire neighborhood the minute just a sliver of sun crests the horizon, how about you fly over a Starbucks, eat some coffee they threw in the dumpster and then stay up a little later and join the Beetlefest?