I took a trip to Maryland to visit a friend. The first day there were a couple of bugs in my hotel room that she identified as stinkbugs, telling me that those types of insects are all over in the area.
One stinkbug was dead and one was still alive; my friend gently scooped the living bug up and set it free outside.
The next day while I was alone and peacefully reading a book, I saw another live one sitting on the washcloth I was using for coaster under my soda cup.
Thinking I would be compassionate and humane like my friend, I carefully wrapped the washcloth around the base of my cup and carried the whole thing outside the door.
Out there I unwrapped the cup and flapped the washcloth vigorously to free the stinkbug. I thought it fell out—there was a black spot in the ground— so I pulled my glasses from the top of my head down to my eyes in order to check. (I can’t read with my glasses on, but I need the glasses to see distances. It’s tough being over forty.)
Unfortunately it was just a black spot.
So where was the stinkbug? I flapped the washcloth some more, but nothing fell out. Maybe it flew away?
I shrugged and stepped back into the room, glancing down at the soda still in my hand.
There was the bug on top of the lid, SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO THE STRAW. I screamed and threw the cup across the room.
All thoughts of humanely setting a cute little bug free vanished and I smashed that nasty thing flat.
You missed your chance mister.