The closest I’ve ever come to “fear” of an insect was the day I discovered “Tarantula Hawks”. Imagine a giant purple, orange-winged wasp dragging a very large tarantula across the ground; like Tony Soprano disposing of a body. Whose only reaction, upon noticing my startled gaze, was to continue dragging it’s victim, completely unphased, while looking at me like, “What? You want to take a picture or something?”

Wrong. I’m not brave in either scenario.

You fly until a size 13 boot renders you into a fine paste.

Made the mistake of thinking I could spray one of the big Florida ones, coming from a place where I was used to the German cockroach. He did not die. He was however very pissed and tried to get me through the door I managed to shut in time.