Murder at Murphy Road

If there was any doubt after my last blog entry, it's gone. I am surely going to hell. I did the unspeakable, and I'm being punished. I don't know what came over me, it was like I was possessed by the devil. I didn't even know I was capable of murder! Who was this angry, bitter person that suddenly consumed me? Do I need an exorcism?
There I was, on the toilet, when I reached for the toilet paper, there was...what? A stick? A daddy long legs? I couldn't really tell, but it was surely a stick about three inches long with antenae about an inch long and it wasn't moving. I thought maybe it was some kind of bug with a stick in its mouth, building a nest or something, but no, that wasn't it. I bravely moved the toilet paper roll and it scurried a little bit. Egads! A stick that moves! I was both intrigued and a little frightened simultaneously. Apparently, a dangerous mix of emotions.
I moved the tp roll again and again it scurried. I did this a few more times until it moved onto the wall. I took care of business, pulled up my pants and assessed the situation. I don't like to kill anything, especially if it's not dangerous. Was it? I had no way of knowing. I would save it, put it on a magazine and place it outside. That was the plan. As soon as I got it on the magazine, it moved and I couldn't keep it one place. I got the heeby jeebies and shook the magazine until the stick thing fell to the floor. That's when it happened. I guess fear took over. Before I knew what I was doing, I stomped on the thing - three times - until it was dead. Then I wrapped it up in tissue and threw it in the garbage and truth be told, thought nothing of the whole incident.
Until dinner.
I started telling SSM guy about how I killed this strange thing in the bat..."What?" he exclaimed. "You killed the stick bug? I moved it around three times this morning trying to save it."
OMG! What had I done? The gravity of the situation suddenly weighed on me, and it was as if I snapped out of some temporary state of calm or oblivion or something. Why did I kill that poor, innocent and interesting creature? What did it do to me?
I've been mortified ever since, and now I'm sure that I'm being punished. Yesterday there was a dead bird on the porch. Just lying there. No blood, no visible trauma. Peacefully dead. An ominous sign of something looming.
Sam, Muffin and I will not be leaving the house today. In fact, we're all staying locked up in the bedroom, safe in bed.