This is not a song - it's an opus, five and a half minutes long. I used to like Christine Lavin a lot, but I guess I finally got tired of her and stopped buying CD's. Good song, though.
-Joe Offer-

Gread Big Bug
(Christine Lavin)
© 1995 Christine Lavin CL2 (ASCAP)

(People ask me what my life is like when I'm not out on the road performing. This song should answer a lot of those questions.)

It was late one night, I was home alone. I was reading The New York Post,
Another article about Amy Fisher, the girl we love to hate the most.
Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move on my rug.
It was brown. it was shiny. It had a lotta legs. Good God, it's a great big bug!

I jumped up, started breathing real heavy. My heart was beginning to pound.
If my neighbor could 'a' heard right through these walls, she'd think a love thing was goin' down.
I threw the newspaper on top of the bug, started stomping all over the place.
So sorry, Amy, don't take it personally what I did to your face.

CHORUS: I'm not afraid of the water. I'm not afraid to fly,
But when I see a great big bug, I know that one of us must die.

I jumped back. everything got really quiet. Then the newspaper started to rustle.
Suddenly two antennae emerged. Oh, look at that big bug hustle!
Ran right into my bathroom, hid behind the blue trash basket.
I turned on the light, rolled up the paper, said, "Say hello to your casket."

I don't know how he did it, but that bug just disappeared.
It's the middle of the night. I've got no bug spray. Haven't needed it for years.
So I poked around with a coat hanger, swished around with a broom,
But I had to get to sleep, so I announced to the bug, "Tomorrow you'll meet your doom." CHORUS

The next morning, I woke up in a cold sweat. It was time to resume the chase.
I rolled up the Post making sure the point of impact was Joey Buttafuoco's face.
But I poke and I search and I look and I poke, but I just could not find that bug,
Till I get this sinking feeling I should take a peek in the tub.

There it is! It's so big! There's no way I can get near.
So I look around to find some kind of lethal object here.
Shampoo? Nope. Q-tips? Nope. There must be something in this room.
That's when I find the weapon of choice: Elizabeth Taylor's Passion perfume.

I spray and I spray and I spray and I spray. He tries to climb up out of the tub.
Though he slides right back on his slippery tracks, he's not giving up!
So I spray and I spray and I spray and I spray, but he keeps running around.
Eureka! I put the plunger on top of him. That oughta keep him down.

Just then, the telephone rings. I say, "Hi, this is Chris. Can't talk. Call you back."
My friend on the phone says, "What's going on? Sounds like you're having a heart attack."
So I tell him about the monstrous bug I've lust imprisoned with my plunger,
And he says, "That's easy. Just pump up and down a couple of times. That oughta put him under." CHORUS

Now the plunger is stuck hard to the tub. I'm afraid to pull it free,
But my friend on the phone says, "You can do it! Show some New York bravery."
I pull it off with a thwack! But the bug still alive! He keeps running around again.
So I spray and I spray and I spray and I spray, and it runs right down the drain.

And I spray and I spray and I spray and I spray, 'cause I can't stop.
I praise the Lord for Elizabeth Taylor, then spray out the last few drops.
Then I scream and I scream and I scream and I scream, stuff the newspaper in the drain.
I may have won this battle, but I know that bug is gonna rise again.

So now I live in fear of a great big bug that smells like a movie queen,
Afraid it's gonna come back to act out a sequel to this death-defying scene.
But I'm prepared. I've sprayed a little Raid on my wrists, wear Roach Motels off my ears,
And this rolled up copy of The New York Post helps me cope with my fears. CHORUS