My mom would kill me if she knew I was the one who placed bugs in her room. It started when I placed a dead butterfly in her bed after an argument about my grades. She is deathly afraid of bugs. I have to admit it’s petty, but every time we argue I go outside to search for either a dead or alive bug. It depends on how pissed off I am. I place it somewhere in her bedroom. I could be hanging out in the living room, and hear a sudden shriek from across the hall. I gradually moved on to grosser bugs like beetles or grubs, even roaches. Maybe someday she’ll be too paranoid about the bug problem to yell at me anymore.