Last night as my granddaughters were preparing for bed, they discovered a centipede on the wall in their bedroom. T, the older girl tried to kill it with her shoe. But the centipede (we'll call him Speedy) zipped away, shooting down the wall behind the hide-a-beds.
At once the girls declared they couldn't/wouldn't sleep in the room with the possibility that Speedy could crawl in bed with them. T demanded a flashlight, both girls put on their shoes, and they started moving everything from one side of the room to the other. Using the flashlight, they eventually discovered Speedy lurking behind the couch.
When they tried to terminate him, he shot out from under the couch across the room, scooting right in front of D. T shrieked, "Kill it, kill it!" but D was absolutely paralyzed by Speedy's near encounter with her toes.
T leaped off the couch in pursuit. Speedy ran under their piled luggage, and D started screaming while T was yelling, "You let it get away!"
T lunged for the luggage, tossing their bags wildly aside lest Speedy take refuge inside one. Suddenly Speedy was revealed in the harsh glare of the flashlight. T jumped on him with both feet squishing him under one of her belts.
With heaving chests both girls stared down at poor Speedy with great satisfaction. Then they gathered the remains in a tissue, tossed it in the toilet and flushed it twice... just to make sure.
D looked at me with her lower lip a-tremble and announced, "Nanna, I'm traumatized."
With perfect truth, I solemnly replied, "Me, too."
Eventually, after the room was put to rights, they went to bed. But I'm not sure exactly when they went to sleep--even if they did vanquish the intrepid Speedy.