1
One late summer morning, we found two ladybugs humping doggy-style in Max’s garden. We held each other and watched them.
“Look,” Max said, “the top one is pinning down the legs of the bottom one.”
“The thrusting is so smooth,” I said.
“Their bodies are so shiny,” Max said.
“They remind me of us,” I said, and bent down to pick them up.
“Amy, what the fuck!” Max said.
“But I want them to come inside and be with us when we have sex,” I said.
“That’s so sweet,” Max said. “OK, pick them up.”
I placed my finger on the grass and the bottom ladybug crawled onto my nail, bringing the top ladybug with it. They literally fucked themselves onto my finger! Can you believe that?
We brought them into Max’s room. I placed my finger on the desk and the ladybugs fucked themselves off, into the spotlight of the lamp. Their red shells gleamed.
“Amy, what’s the holdup!” Max said. “I want to have sex while they’re still doing it. It won’t be an orgy otherwise.”
Max was already in bed, clothes off, touching himself. But I couldn’t stop watching. Ladybugs can have sex for hours, even days, at a time. Did you know this? Amazing stamina.
“Amy!” Max said.
“One second,” I said.
The thrusting got faster and I leaned in. Then one of the ladybugs squealed! I gasped. A tiny ladybug orgasm. The top ladybug rolled off and the bottom ladybug ripped the top’s head off.
I touched myself. “Max, I’m so wet, this wondrous event has set me off.”
But for Max, the wonder was over. “I’m over it,” he said.
“Well, I’m not,” I said.
“And that’s your own fault,” he said.
And it went on like this — and on and on — and worse and worse — and can you believe that this was the fight that broke us up?
2
One late summer morning, Patrick and I were fucking doggy-style in the grass when something dropped from the sky.
“What… The… Hell… Is… That?” Patrick said, one word per thrust.
It was some kind of giant beige worm. I crawled onto it.
“Chloe… What… The… Fuck!” Patrick said.
I had gripped Patrick’s penis with my vagina and was dragging him on with me.
“I want us to have sex on the giant worm,” I said.
The worm lifted us into the air, out of our world and into another. It turned out that the giant worm was the finger of a human woman. I had never considered a human woman in a sexual way. But this human woman, I can’t describe it, the way she looked at me. I’d never been watched by eyes that big.
I wasn’t planning on ripping Patrick’s head off. It’s not even what ladybugs do. But I knew it’s what the woman wanted. In that moment, we were connected and I knew what to give her. Was I wrong? For doing that to Patrick? Because it felt right. Patrick had once told me that when he was a young ladybug he’d had sex with a dead one. So don’t feel too sorry for Patrick. I mean, he said he didn’t know she was dead at the time. But still. I won’t get into it, but Patrick was a messed up guy. I’m glad he’s gone.
I don’t know what I thought would happen next. I didn’t have time to think before she stormed out, leaving me stranded in that room with the human man. I hated this man. He was worse than Patrick. He stank. His flat was a mess. All he did was cry and watch Neon Genesis Evangelion. I waited for her to come back, but she never did.
One good thing: I found a sliver of cut toenail wedged between two floorboards, and it had some green nail polish on it, so I was sure it was hers. This green sliver was all I needed. It did everything. I could hump it, chew on it, sleep on it. I propped it up and we hung out. I put it inside me. I lay with it on the human man’s pillow when he wasn’t there. I loved my green sliver. It was like a sturdy blade of grass.
3
One late summer morning, I was lying there, wedged in the dark between two floorboards, when something dragged me away. “Yes!” I felt. “Drag me!” I felt. It was some kind of red blob. It pulled me across the floor and rubbed itself on my green side. I had never been rubbed on before. It was warm and slick with lots of hands. I love you, I felt. It sat on me and chewed on me. What a miracle, I felt, to be plucked out of the dark.