Presumably Tokyo is safe for tonight, because there’s a giant moth in the kitchen.
I can only assume that some sort of nuclear testing has made it this size because there’s no reason a moth needs to be big enough to snatch a small dog from the street and fly off with it.
I’ve pushed the door shut, but every now and then it launches itself at it, like the raptors in Jurassic Park testing the fences. There’s just a dull thud, like when a bee flies into a window, but nowhere near as cute. I imagine the other side of the door, were I brave enough to open it, will just have lots of dusty impact prints.
Now the moth in and of itself is not the problem. I mean, yes, no-one wants its massive furry body slapping them in the face but there is a darker side to it all.
The morning chewed carcass discovery.
No-one wants that.
Particularly as, due to the size of the beast, cat and moth locked in mortal combat could lead to the destruction of property on a massive scale.
But mainly because Carole gets up before me and would make me get out if bed to remove whatever mangled remains were scattered across the floor.