When he battles insects to the death so I don't have to. I'm a sissy about those things.
I keep meaning to write some kind of ballad about the first great war. This giant fucking deathbomber moth got in the house. I grabbed my pomeranian and started running around screaming. Husband grabbed a can of raid and started spraying all over while yelling at our corgi to stop trying to help because she was only serving to trip him as she ka-pwinged around the house losing her shit at the death moth. The corgi was using every sonic bark attack in her arsenal but this moth was a stubborn bastard.
So finally I guess just the general fumes of the raid got to it and it kinda hits the floor. Corgi SWOOPS in and grabs it in her mouth. I'm now screaming less about the giant moth in the air and now about a giant poison soaked moth in my corgi's face. But this moth was not about to go down to a stubby dog. It must have started beating its wings like crazy because I swear her whole head vibrated until she went "ptooie" and spat it out.
This fucking moth rose like a phoenix back into the air. At this point I was mostly all screamed out so I ran with the Pomeranian and locked myself in the bedroom.
So, until this point, my best friend (who lives with us) was just trying to stay out of the way and smack the moth with a rolled up magazine (a Maxim addressed to King Uppercut, because he won't use his real name on magazine subscriptions). Best friend decides it's time for the big guns and runs off to his room.... returning with a fucking crossbow and a medeval flail. He was taking this moth killing to the next level. He hands my husband the flail, who actually takes it, looks at it, and then decides not to decimate the house with ancient weaponry, thankfully.
They're yelling and trying to coordinate some attack plan while the corgi is still zooming back and forth through the house after the moth, so at least we have a homing device locked on it, i guess. So the flying shitbag finally goes into the small bathroom. All three of them (husband, friend and dog) pile in there and close the door.
I take this moment to come out of the bedroom with the pomeranian. I hear them all going nuts in the bathroom. I say " ... is it dead?" JUST AS THE MOTH COMES OUT FROM UNDER THE GODDAMN DOOR RIGHT AT ME.
So now I'm screaming again and locked in the bedroom, stuffing blankets under the door in case it comes for me.
They all charge out of the bathroom, corgi leading the way, and FINALLY gas the dusty asshole down. Husband goes to flush it. AND IT CLOGS THE TOILET.
Fucking moths let the men deal with this shit.