Outline For A Story About How My Boyfriend Is Actually A Giant Bedbug

By Lizzy Acker, May 19, 2015

Sometimes people ask me: “How do you make it as a successful writer? Where does your inspiration come from? HOW IS YOUR GENIUS SAUSAGE MADE?!” So here’s a look behind the scenes, at my process. Copyright Lizzy Acker. You’re welcome.

• My legs itched for two years. I thought it was the lotion I was using.
  Then another lotion. Then my pants. Then the air. Then I thought it was normal.
• I thought, “Maybe I just get hives now??”
• I thought, “There is no possible way I have bedbugs.”
• The leg itching followed me from San Francisco to Portland.
  My bed, and the wooden pallet a friend has given me which made me feel SO GROWN UP BECAUSE MY MATTRESS WAS NO LONGER ON THE FLOOR, also followed me.
• During this two year period, I was the only person who slept in my bed for any longer than one night in a row.
  Judge not lest ye be judged.
• Finally, two years after the itching began, I left my bed for two weeks.
  I went to Burning Man. JUDGE NOT, OKAY??
• My legs, magically, didn’t itch.
• My first night home, I was massacred in the night.
  My little bedbug guys were hungry.
• I could deny it no longer. I lifted the corner of my sheet and a swarm of dark red bugs skittered away.
  I cried. I called my mom.
• The exterminator said, “This is a serious infestation. I see bugs here in every stage of life.”
  Generations of bugs had been feasting on my blood. I was their God. I was the only life force they knew.
• The exterminator said, “You have to sleep with them until they die or they will follow you in the night around your house.”
  My bedbugs really loved me.
• It’s very hard to sleep once you acknowledge bugs are crawling all over you in the dark.
  
• Slowly, my followers died.
  My hives went away. My legs stopped itching.
• Around this time, I met a boy on Tinder.
• He was really too good to be true.
  Nice, smart, cool. Pretty into me.
• For awhile, we slept n the guest room when he came over.
  I acted like it was a thing.
• Finally I told him about the bedbugs. He was unfazed.
• He liked to nibble on my neck sometimes.
• We had different work schedules so mainly I saw him at night.
• I moved to a new apartment, threw out the wooden pallet.
• The boy remained.
• He likes to wake up and make me breakfast.
• Sometimes he vacuums.
• In the story, at some point, maybe here, I’m going to have to realize he’s a giant bedbug that my brain is seeing as a human.
  I denied the existence of the bugs for so long. Why not a little longer.
• I’ll come to this realization slowly.
• He’s so grateful to me for the two years of blood.
• My blood, mixed with the bug killer chemicals, caused the bedbugs to fuse–merge into one super, giant, sweet bedbug.
• I remain their God, though they present now as a cute boy with blue eyes.
• They sustained themselves on my blood for so long, they know exactly, what I need.
  They had suffered my disappointments. Seen my triumphs. Read my dreams.
• The bedbug boyfriend turns out to be the thing the sustains my life.
• We live happily ever after.
• The End

This post originally appeared on this secret list making app. I wrote it for that but I wanted you to see it too, even though you aren’t a celebrity (there are only celebrities on that app).

Categories: Ceremonies

Tagged: bedbugs, love, romance