The Centipede: A Most Vile Creature
“It may often be seen darting across floors with very great speed, occasionally stopping suddenly and remaining absolutely motionless, presently to resume its rapid movements, often darting directly at inmates of the house, particularly women, evidently with a desire to conceal itself beneath their dresses, and thus creating much consternation.” — C.L. Marlatt (Entomologist with the USDA, 1902)
Why do centipedes exist? They really shouldn’t. We all know this to be true, yet they remain among us, appearing in bathtubs, basements, and garages around the world.
Let’s get some basic science out of the way, shall we? Relatives of centipedes and millipedes first arrived on this cursed rock some 430 million years ago. They were even scarier back then, what with the steamy volcanoes in the background and the obligatory pterosaurs flying by overhead. Some of these ancient centipede-like creatures were ENORMOUS. Take Mr. Arthropleura, for example. This motherf-cker was NINE feet long.
No thanks.
Centipedes and millipedes are related, but they differ in many ways. They are brethren right up to the subphylum Myriapoda, and then their paths diverge. It is here where millipedes have the definite advantage. They decided to be more chill, way less frightening, and to go vegetarian (for the good of the planet, of course).
Centipedes, on the other hand, turned to the dark-side and developed a pair of hideous fangs that work horizontally — like the creature from Predator. These “forcipules” are actually a modified first pair of legs. Nine out of 10 scientists agree: sideways fangs are more disturbing than those that go up and down. Hey, I don’t make the rules. I trust the science.
There are tons of different centipedes, from the massive Amazonian Giant Centipede (Scolopendra gigantea) to the diminutive Hoffman’s Dwarf Centipede (Nannarrup hoffmani). While differences in temperament, diet, and habitat abound, scientists are in agreement that all centipedes are clearly the work of Satan himself — forged in the fiery depths of Hell. Case in point, the aforementioned Giant Centipede can hang from the roof of a cave and catch bats for a tasty, hellish treat.
This article will focus on the relatively innocuous common House Centipede (Scutigera coleoptrata), a native of the Mediterranean who hitched its way on boats and fruit and shit to infest the rest of the world.
According to a few online sources, house centipedes are actually beneficial, as they are carnivores that hunt and kill other arthropods (“bugs” for the laymen out there). These sources also claim that house centipedes are a good thing for these very reasons; that we should, in fact, embrace the house centipede — celebrate it even.
Get the fuck outta here.
If you’re doubting me at all, take another look at the photo up top. Yuck. That was a house centipede that I found in my bathroom sink, first thing in the morning — not even having had a cup of coffee yet!
You may be wondering what became of the centipede in that photograph, and for the record, yes, I did fetch my “real” camera to get a decent pic, as the little bugger was trapped in the smooth bowl of the sink — unable to escape! Sadly, he is with us no more… snatched away too soon with a piece of toilet paper and a quick swirly into the Great Unknown. RIP.
Here’s the rub. I am an animal lover, through and through. Dogs, cats, birds, toads, frogs, turtles, snakes, etc., and yes: even most bugs. I don’t mind a spider. I welcome a katydid. I’ve never met a cricket I didn’t like. And the centipede, for all its innate horror, doesn’t actually scare me in any real sense at all. I just find them repulsive and completely unlovable. I know, I know — it’s not their fault. They’re just out there living their best many-legged lives, running at high speed and killing other bugs. More power to ’em.
But if reincarnation is a real thing, it would be quite terrible to come back as a centipede. Ugh.
There you would be, scurrying along, wondering “why the fuck am I so gross?” as you make your way up a damp drainpipe. I imagine your tiny brain would be ticking a million miles a minute, as you contemplated the bad deeds you’d done in a past life to bring you to this lowly state. Then, a bright spot of light! You emerge from the darkness into a great white porcelain bowl. Up and up you run, getting nowhere, sliding back again to where you started — until you are photographed by a strange monster who simply squishes you and sends you down the drain again; hopefully to be reborn as something better.
