And when I say things, I mean bug things.
I have a really bad habit, one that gets a lot of people riled. I tend to pick crumbs up and pop them in my mouth. Crumbs from the table (not the plate), the floor, my clothes, the boy. It's all tied up with my dislike of wasting food, I think. So, say I'm having a cake or a biscuit. You can be sure I eat all the crumbs I may scatter as well. It's not been unknown for me to pop some fluff mistakenly in my mouth while I was at it but that never really cured me.
Yesterday evening, I was having some homemade cake. This one wasn't properly beaten so it was rather crumby. As I propped my feet up on the sofa and read my Georgette Heyer (The Black Moth), I managed to get crumbs all over my chest, parts of it that weren't immediately visible, thanks to the book and angle of reading. True to form, I picked them up as they fell, mostly by guess, and without looking, popped them in with nary a break between words.
Until something soft didn't quite taste like chocolate cake. When I brought it out of my mouth it proved to be the remains of one of those light insects, something that must have been alive and fluttering five seconds ago before its final journey into my mouth. Dammit.
Next time, like the Bhabbles, I will refuse to put uninvestigated matter into my mouth. And even more like him, I shall make it a point to tell all insects, wherever I may meet them, "Poka, GO!" Only, being only a Babu and not a Bhabbles, I shall try not to scream it at the top of my lungs until I'm red in the face.