My Dinner with Angus (and the Lovely Ms. Angus)

So Angus put together a first rate supper here at House d'Angus. Afterwards, the sitting / tea drinking / storytelling began.

Angus and I, affected by the decaf tea no doubt, began to bare our innermost souls. Each of us confessed our deepest, most intimate fear, which interestingly happen to be identical.

Leeches.

Ticks we can deal with, broken bones, fire, all fine. But no freakin' leeches, please. Gives us nightmares.

So...Ms. Angus immediately tells a story of a missionary she had heard about, in Africa. A large leech apparently crawled onto him.

And into his eye.

It latched, and managed to get to the back of his eye. "Like it was going to go into his brain," she said.

Angus and I are staring at her. We have bared our manly vulnerabilities, and she is going to go THERE?

Immersed in her story, she continued: "They had to pour hot sauce into his eye. Hot pepper sauce. He was screaming and thrashing around, and they had to tie him down. They kept putting more pepper sauce into his eye, and he was screaming. But they were afraid the leech would go into his brain."

Angus and I are holding onto each other and making little whimpering sounds.

She goes on. "Finally, the leech couldn't stand it, and the pepper sauce was burning it. So it came out." Seeing us staring at her, she said, "What? What did I say? Did I mention it was going to go into his brain?"

I am going to dream me some tremulous dreams, I'm afraid. Ms. Angus won this round.