Drunk on truth to stupid baby power.

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


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).

3 Responses to “Outline For A Story About How My Boyfriend Is Actually A Giant Bedbug”

  1. Rene Rude

    This post made me giggle A LOT. And also go “eewwww”
    I used to watch the show infested and this reminded me of that. Just the thought of having Bed bugs makes me itch. Great post.
    I like to think of my boyfriend as a stray puppy I brought in. Bed bug is a new one for me :p


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