Creepy Crawly Chaos

by George Ivanoff

  The next enclosure has a mini pool filled with beetles doing water ballet.

  ‘Welcome to the wonderful world of insectoid entertainment,’ says the man. ‘Or insectainment, as I prefer to call it. The name’s PT Barnbug – trainer, promoter, agent and showman.’

  He extends a hand. You shake it tentatively. It’s cold and clammy.

  Barnbug spreads his arms in a flourish. ‘So, whaddaya think?’

  You glance down at the nearest enclosure. There are two praying mantises inside – one larger than the other. You can hardly believe your ears when the big one speaks in a squeaky high-pitched voice, its triangular head bobbing about on its neck.

  ‘What do you call a clumsy bee?’

  You shrug.

  ‘A bumbling bee!’ says the mantis, chortling at its own joke. ‘Get it? A bumble-ing bee!’

  The second mantis laughs nervously. You’re about to say that you think it’s a super lame joke, when the big mantis leaps at the smaller one and devours its head in one clean bite.

  You jump back.

  ‘Nature can be brutal,’ laments Barnbug. Then he grins. ‘But also hilariously funny!’

  The mantis picks at its mandibles with a foreleg, gives a burp, then looks down at its headless companion. ‘I guess he laughed his head off.’

  Barnbug grins again and claps as the mantis takes a bow.

  ‘Now, get a load of this.’ Barnbug indicates the stage.

  A horde of cockroaches scuttles out. You watch in amazement as they arrange themselves into four rows of ten, then lean back onto their hind legs. Standing in a group, they begin to sing ‘New York, New York’. They’re pretty good. Barnbug sings along with them. He’s pretty awful.

  ‘Hey,’ whispers a tiny voice. ‘Hey you!’

  You look down at the joke-making praying mantis.

  ‘Help me!’ it squeaks. ‘Please.’

  You stare at the mantis, uncertain as to what you should do. Perhaps you should release it?

  Before you can make up your mind, the cockroaches finish their song and scuttle off-stage.

  ‘What’s the matter, kid?’ asks Barnbug, looking over at you.

  Should you tell him?

  To let Barnbug know about the mantis, go here.

  To stay silent, go here.

  You decide to keep silent about the mantis.

  ‘Well then, kid,’ says Barnbug, ‘how about another song?’

  You nod.

  ‘Righto. Let me just have a word with the roaches.’

  As Barnbug sticks his head behind the mini-stage curtain, you open the door to the mantis enclosure. The mantis hops onto your hand and you lift it up to your ear.

  ‘Barnbug is an insane monster,’ it whispers. ‘I used to be a human scientist, but he turned me into a mantis. He sneaks into the research lab at night and conducts all sorts of experiments in order to create his performing slaves. I discovered what he was doing, so he turned me into this creature. Now it’s time for me to get my revenge. Take me to Barnbug.’

  What kind of payback can a little praying mantis inflict on a full-grown man? Perhaps it would be better to sneak off and try to find the research lab?

  To get away while Barnbug is busy, go here.

  But if you would rather take the mantis to Barnbug, go here.

  You tell Barnbug about the mantis asking for help.

  ‘You treacherous ingrate!’ Barnbug snarls at the mantis. ‘Time for a little lesson.’

  Barnbug releases the tap-dancing spiders and they scuttle into the mantis enclosure. Within seconds the mantis is pinned down with webs and the spiders are tap-dancing over its head.

  ‘Now, time for some more entertainment,’ announces Barnbug, heading for the stage.

  This is getting too weird! Maybe it’s your cue to leave?

  To make an exit, go here.

  On the other hand, you are curious about what the next act might be. To stay, go here.

  You back up out of the room. Now what are you going to do?

  You could explore the basement.

  Or you could give up on exploring and make your way to the gift shop.

  To head down to the basement, go here.

  To check out the gift shop, go here.

  You stick around to watch the next performance. It’s a bunch of dung beetles with a balancing acrobatic act. They stack their balls of dung into a pyramid and then proceed to balance on top of it, arranging themselves in a reverse pyramid. It’s quite incredible.

  ‘Pretty impressive, isn’t it?’ says Barnbug. ‘All the acts are. But it’s getting a bit too much for me to handle on my own. What I really need is an apprentice.’ He looks at you and smiles his gold-toothed smile. ‘So how about it, kid? Wanna go into insect showbiz?’

  If you want to accept Barnbug’s offer, go here.

  To decline, go here.

  You open the door marked BASEMENT and head down the dimly lit concrete steps.

  As you descend, you enter a huge concrete room … filled with cages. Cages of all shapes and sizes, with mesh tunnels running between them and along the walls. And inside the cages are dozens of small furry creatures. You move closer.

  They’re guinea pigs! Black, brown, white and multicoloured. Long-haired and short-haired. There are even some super-ugly hairless ones. But they are all motionless – staring at you with their beady little eyes.

  In amongst the cages are a table and chair, positioned in front of an old oil heater. Tucked away in a corner are a mattress and bedding.

  The ceiling is covered with metal pipes, many of them dripping into puddles on the floor. There’s also a fluorescent tube light that flickers every few seconds.

  It’s very weird and rather creepy.

  A man jumps out from a dark corner. ‘Aha!’ he shouts.

  You take a step back. In the blinking light you stare at him.

  He’s ancient – bent with age and slightly hunchbacked. He has a mop of unkempt wiry grey hair and a grizzled beard. His eyes are sunken and his skin is crinkled like scrunched-up paper. He’s wearing multiple layers of mismatched clothing, topped off with a threadbare brown cardigan over denim overalls and a long green scarf. His gnarled hands are in fingerless knitted gloves.

  ‘A visitor!’ he cackles with delight, hopping from one foot to the other. ‘Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had one? My little piggies and I are delighted to see you.’

  The man scuttles over and energetically shakes your hand.

  ‘So nice to meet you,’ he says. ‘So nice to make your acquaintance. My babies are ever so excited to have a visitor to play with. And I, Mr Auguste Pigworzle Esquire, am ecstatic at the prospect of providing them with a plaything – I mean, playmate.’

  You look around at the cages. The guinea pigs are silently staring at you.

  You ask Mr Pigworzle what he’s doing in the Research Centre basement.

  ‘It wasn’t always a bug house,’ he explains, giggling at the name he’s given to the Centre. ‘There used to be a guinea pig breedery on this property and it produced generations of show-quality animals. After it closed, I stayed with the remaining piggies, making a nice home down in the basement. When the old building was demolished so they could build the bug house, they left the basement. And they let me stay.’ Mr Pigworzle smiles, revealing lots of missing teeth.

  ‘I think they’ve forgotten about me and my cuties here,’ he continues. ‘So I’ve added a few more runs, extending up into the bug house. But they don’t know about that.’ His jovial features suddenly turn cold and he stares at you. ‘You’re not planning on telling them, are you?’

  You shake your head vigorously.

  ‘That’s good,’ he says, smiling again. ‘’Cause otherwise, I’d have to let my piggy-wiggies deal with you. They’re ever so good at that.’

  He cackles long and loud until he’s overcome by a fit of coughing. When he’s finished, he stares at you again.

  ‘Now, time for you to have a play with my itt
y-bitty, furry-wurry wiggy-piggies,’ he says, opening the door of the largest cage.

  None of the guinea pigs makes a move.

  This is all very unnerving and you’re not sure you want to play with these rodents.

  If you want to get out of there, go here.

  But if you think it might be better to stay and play with the guinea pigs, at least for a little while, go here.

  You ask the guide about Lepidoptery.

  ‘Lepidoptery?’ The guide looks at you with a quizzical expression. ‘Seriously? You’re actually interested in the study of moths and butterflies?’

  You nod.

  She takes you to meet Professor Vortis Menoptera, the Centre’s Lepidoptery expert. He’s a funny little man with goggle-like glasses and wispy hair. His lab coat is decorated with paintings of butterfly and moth wings, making him look a bit like an overgrown butterfly himself. When he moves, the coat billows around him as if he’s flapping his own wings.

  Professor Menoptera gives you a private tour of the Lepidoptera research area, including a viewing of some newly discovered species. It’s all very fascinating and you are enthused.

  You end up applying for work experience at the Centre over the summer holidays, helping the professor to catalogue the specimens. You go on to study entomology at university and do your PhD on the ratio of wingspan to abdominal surface area of the Hercules Moth.

  After years of working at the Entomology and Arachnology Research Centre, you establish a National Centre for Lepidoptery. You become a world-famous expert in the field, writing the definitive textbook on the subject, and winning a Nobel prize.

  You live to the age of one hundred and ten. At your funeral, mourners claim that before the coffin can be lowered into the ground, your body is carried off into the clouds by a swarm of butterflies and moths.

  You follow the guide into the Deadly Insects exhibit.

  ‘There are so many dangerous insects,’ explains the guide. ‘Fleas, ticks and mosquitoes can, in some cases, kill people by spreading certain diseases. And there are many others. We have a small selection of these killer bugs on exhibition.’

  You scratch at your arm as she takes you to the first display. There’s a little red lump. Could it be a flea bite? you wonder.

  The display is a perspex enclosure full of large flies. Big deal!

  ‘In here we have flies,’ says the guide. ‘Don’t laugh,’ she warns. ‘These are not ordinary flies. They are tsetse flies. They feed on blood and carry a lethal sleeping sickness. After the initial bite you get fevers, headaches, itchiness and joint pains. Then it affects your central nervous system and your brain, causing lethargy and … DEATH!’

  As the other kids crowd around the display, you continue to scratch at your arm. Maybe one of the tsetse flies got out and bit you? Your shoulder joint is feeling quite stiff.

  The guide goes from display to display. ‘Here we have several types of wasps. And here, some killer bees.’ She comes to a stop beside another display. ‘But these are really interesting. Kissing bugs. They don’t actually kiss; rather, they suck your blood …’

  You tune out from the guide as your scratching gets worse and your mind fills with all the fatal possibilities of what might have bitten you. Is it just in your mind? It probably is.

  To ignore the itching, go here.

  To show the bite to the guide and ask her about it, go here.

  You turn to go and start climbing the stairs.

  ‘No!’ screeches the old man. ‘You can’t leave yet. You have to play with my guinea-winneas! They’ve been oh so patient for oh so long.’

  You speed up, taking two steps at a time.

  ‘Stop him, my pretties!’ orders Mr Pigworzle.

  The guinea pigs race out of the cages, squeaking and snuffling as they bound towards you at incredible speed, leaping, flipping and somersaulting. You make it to the last step when they swoop.

  You scream as they pounce on you, sharp little claws digging into your clothes and hair. The weight of so many guinea pigs unbalances you and you topple down the stairs.

  THUD!

  As you land on the concrete floor, more pile on top of you.

  It’s a game of rodent stacks-on.

  You’re finding it hard to breathe under all those creatures. Fur is getting into your mouth and down your throat. Is it moulting season or something? You’re sneezing and sputtering. The next thing you know, you are trying to cough up a fur ball stuck in your throat.

  Is this how it’s going to end?

  Death by fur ball!

  A career in insect entertainment? Definitely not! You decline the offer to become Barnbug’s apprentice.

  ‘Oh, too bad,’ says Barnbug as he flicks wide the hatch on a nearby enclosure. ‘You have, of course, seen too much … so I’m afraid I can’t let you leave.’

  A swarm of wasps rises up from the open enclosure.

  ‘Fly, my pretties,’ he cackles. ‘Sting the intruder into submission.’

  ‘No!’ squeaks a tiny voice from another enclosure. It’s the praying mantis, still held down with webs. The spiders have taken a break to rest their feet.

  ‘This is your chance to be free. Sting the Barnbug tormentor, not the kid!’ cries the mantis.

  The swarm changes direction, heading for Barnbug. ‘No!’ he screams, racing around frantically, trying to get away from them.

  You back up out of the room, opening enclosures as you go. You rush off to the sound of Barnbug’s screams.

  You breathe a sigh of relief. That was close!

  You’ve had enough bugs for today. You decide to head to the gift shop.

  Go here.

  You walk up behind Barnbug and hold out your arm, the praying mantis quivering in your hand.

  Barnbug gasps as he turns around and stares straight into the tiny, bulbous eyes of the vengeful mantis.

  ‘What do you call a useless Barnbug?’ The little creature’s voice is cold and harsh.

  Barnbug shrugs.

  ‘DEAD!’ screeches the mantis as it launches itself at its master’s face.

  Barnbug tries to move away but he’s not quick enough. The mantis clutches onto his ear and bites down. Barnbug screams and swats at it with his hand. But the mantis clings on, chewing away.

  You take the opportunity to open the other enclosures, releasing the slave entertainment insects. They all launch themselves at Barnbug. The cockroaches come out from backstage and join in.

  There are spiders tap-dancing on his bald head, ladybugs nipping at his nose and dragon flies slapping him in the face with their wings. And the cockroaches are singing ‘The Winner Takes It All’ as they pull at his hair.

  This is just too bizarre!

  You run from the room, out of the Entomology and Arachnology Research Centre and into the school bus. You wait there alone until the excursion is over, quietly humming ‘New York, New York’.

  As Barnbug talks to the cockroaches, you slip out of the room, the praying mantis still in your hand.

  ‘What are you doing?’ squeaks the mantis. ‘I wanted to exact revenge upon my tormentor!’

  You suggest that it might be better to go to the research lab.

  ‘Oh!’ The mantis nods its head. ‘Yes, you’re probably right.’

  It directs you through the Centre’s corridors to the lab.

  You enter to find a scientist in a white lab coat working at a touchscreen beside a raised metal dais.

  ‘That’s the machine Barnbug used to turn me into a mantis,’ the insect announces.

  The scientist whips around, eyes wide behind large round glasses. Her hair is wild and all over the place, looking like an exploded bird’s nest.

  ‘This area is restricted,’ she declares. Her voice is harsh and gravelly. ‘You must leave. Now!’

  You try to explain about the mantis, but she won’t listen.

  ‘Get me to that machine,’ insists the mantis.

  But as you move forward, the scientist blocks your way.r />
  ‘This is delicate equipment,’ she says. ‘I cannot let you touch it.’

  You feint a movement to one side, and as she moves to block you, you throw the mantis over her head. It lands on the machinery and starts hopping across the touchscreen.

  ‘Stop!’ The scientist makes a grab for the mantis, but you tackle her.

  You struggle with the scientist, but she’s strong and soon begins to overpower you. As she twists your arm behind your back, the mantis lets out a high-pitched scream.

  You and the scientist stop and turn to see the mantis caught in a sphere of green light on the dais. Before your eyes, it grows …

  And grows …

  And grows.

  Until it towers over the two of you.

  You take a step back.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ the scientist shouts. She waves her hands around as she rants and raves, yelling at the mantis.

  ‘Hey, don’t lose your head,’ jokes the mantis.

  In one quick bite, it snaps its mandibles shut on the scientist’s head.

  Fear courses through your mind and body. Is this the same insect that was begging for your help not long ago? Should you run away or try to help it become human again?

  To flee, go here.

  To stay and talk to the mantis, go here.

  You go off in search of whatever mutant creature it was that escaped from the laboratory.

  The Centre is now mostly empty of people. You follow the path of destruction left by the creature. You notice spider webs spread across some of the debris.

  The amount of web increases, until you reach a side corridor that is completely lined with it. The lights are all covered in webbing, making it dim and gloomy. You’ve got a bad feeling about this. But what else can you do? You enter.