My Dear Strangers,
The insects Mr. Gormly booby-trapped onto my head were Hungarian curlers.
They are small and translucent gray, like blisters full of slush, with tacky abdomens that make them inextricable once they twist into a host organism’s hair.
Occult scholarship served me well, and I was able to rid my scalp of the curlers before they fully cocooned. Common smoke irritates their membranes. I lit a wad of newspaper in my hearth and wafted the smoke toward my head. The curlers instantly uncoiled themselves and fell to the floor, where I popped them under my shoe heel. The sound was much like bubble wrap.
I took no pleasure in their extermination, but they could not be allowed to further infest my home.
A single curler defied the smoke and I was forced to shave a portion of my hair with a straight razor. I now have a bald patch, the size of a large postage stamp, to the left of my cowlick.
I admired this tenacious curler and kept it in a Mason jar, which I have placed beside the jar of luminous snow water.
According to Philo’s Enchiridion of Unnatural Insects, full metamorphosis will take several months. Damage to the subsequent page prevents me from knowing what its winged imago form will be.
Nevertheless, it is a hopeful end to a hideous ordeal.
I remain too angry to write at length about Mr. Gormly. Suffice it to say I have not yet returned to the basement. I did, however, install a more formidable lock on the basement door, and have contacted a lawyer about Addendum 7c of the Affidavit of Title.
Might the Hungarian curler incident be grounds for evicting Mr. Gormly, or at least for establishing stricter rules of tenancy?
Look Beyond,
William Rook
The Equinox Society 