Never ever kill a house centipede again if you find inside your home

When you encounter insects around your house, how does it make you feel? It’s understandable that your first instinct would be to snatch anything and run over them. Some of them carry dangerous poisons and can sting you brutally and fatally.

The creepiest ones make you feel the worst; you usually want to strangle those small, frightening animals with so many legs as soon as possible.

However, after reading this, you may be reluctant to kill those menacing-looking centipedes the next time you see them in your toilet.

It might be quite hard to resist the impulse to smash centipedes when you notice them crawling around the house. You can be shocked by centipedes. However, after learning how useful they have been around the house, you might wish to just express your gratitude by not killing them in the future.

It turns out that those squirmy, fast-moving organisms have been keeping other tiny insects out of your house. There’s a special kind of centipede around the house that has about 20 legs wrapped around its body and is slightly shorter than its other wormy brethren.

These tiny animals have acted as an undetectable pest deterrent for your house, keeping out ants, bedbugs, silverfish, spiders, and cockroaches. Their appetite is so great that they practically eat any arthropod they find about the house.

Centipedes are good guys, but that doesn’t mean you should open your doors and let them in in large numbers. Instead, it means you should be grateful to the one or two you find about the house and give them a free pass the next time they come.

They may make some noise when they are found, particularly if small children or even adults think they are disgusting and dirty. Let them go on their own or send them outside to munch some leaves instead of just squashing them.

Don’t squish every bug you come across inside your house to avoid the possibility of introducing hundreds of small baby spiders into your house. You really don’t want to see it.

Furthermore, centipedes aren’t all that terrible. They are only weak, small creatures that, aside from terrifying your heart, are hardly strong enough to cause serious harm.

Considering that they don’t actually spread germs throughout the house like other insects do will help convince you that they are genuinely good people.

Since centipedes are basically non-lethal, you shouldn’t be afraid of them either. However, we are unable to say the same regarding a few others. These insects cause a number of terrible diseases that are quite dangerous and could be fatal if properly treated.

Definitely keep an eye out for those. These are a few of the poisonous insects you should avoid coming into contact with indoors.

After being bitten, bullet ants give you the sensation that you have been fired, as their name implies. Therefore, you should try to avoid getting bitten. One of the largest ant species, they are commonly found in the rainforests of Nicaragua and Paraguay.

The problem is not the botfly itself, but rather its larvae, which are an inside parasite of many animals, including humans. The female deposits her eggs beneath the skin, and the developing larvae dig further into the skin, causing an infection that alters the tissue of the skin significantly.

According to some parents, they can feel the larvae scuttling inside their skin.

Fleas: Because they feed on blood, flea bites can cause itching, irritation, and sometimes even skin infection.

An invader may sustain agonizing white pustules on their skin for weeks after being repeatedly stung by the notorious fire ant. There are about 295 different species of ants. Some of them discharge toxic venom that might cause allergic reactions in certain persons.

Up to 12,000 people may die each year from the trypanosome cruzi parasite, which is spread by the kissing bug biting its victims’ lips.

The largest hornets are giant Japanese hornets, which may reach a length of 2 inches and have a deadly sting that kills about 40 people per year.

Tsetse Flies: An estimated 500,000 people die from sleeping sickness on the African continent as a result of being bitten by tsetse flies.

Killer Bees: Due to their immense numbers, killer bees usually launch aggressive, overwhelming attacks that are frequently fatal.

Driver ants: These ants use their powerful mandibles to strike with tremendous force. They may kill several animals in a single raid. In addition to attacking other insects, they have a horrible habit of biting humans.

Mosquitoes: Known as the deadliest insects and maybe the deadliest organisms on the planet, mosquitoes are believed to be responsible for up to one million deaths each year from diseases like yellow fever, encephalitis, West Nile virus, and malaria.

My DIL Threw Away My Thanksgiving Dishes and Replaced Them with Her Own — My Granddaughter Got Revenge for Me

When my daughter-in-law threw out the Thanksgiving meal I spent hours cooking, I was heartbroken. But my 14-year-old granddaughter wasn’t about to let it slide.

I’ve always loved Thanksgiving. There’s something magical about gathering family around a table filled with food you’ve poured your heart into.

A Thanksgiving dinner | Source: Pexels

A Thanksgiving dinner | Source: Pexels

My turkey recipe? Passed down from my mother. My pecan pie? Perfected after years of trial and error. The mashed potatoes, the stuffing, the cranberry sauce, they’re all a part of me.

But hosting isn’t easy. My knees ache by the time I’m done peeling, chopping, and roasting. Still, I tell myself it’s worth it. My granddaughter, Chloe, always says, “Grandma, your food tastes like love.” Those words keep me going.

A teenage girl | Source: Pexels

A teenage girl | Source: Pexels

This year, though, there was a wrinkle in my plans. My daughter-in-law, Candace, has never cared much for me or my cooking. She’s all about modern twists and store-bought shortcuts. We’ve never said anything outright, but I know how she feels. And she knows how I feel.

At least my son, Brad, and Chloe adore my food. Chloe even asked me last week if I could teach her my pie crust recipe. I told her I would when she was ready to commit to flour-covered counters and sticky fingers. She grinned and said, “Deal.”

Grandmother cooking with her daughter | Source: Pexels

Grandmother cooking with her daughter | Source: Pexels

By 3 p.m., I was bone-tired but proud. The turkey was golden, the pie was cooling, and the sides were perfectly seasoned. I cooked so much that it didn’t fit into my kitchen fridge, so I had to use the backup one in the garage.

I had just started setting the table when I heard the front door.

“Mom! We’re here!” Brad’s cheerful voice called out.

I blinked at the clock. “You’re early!”

A woman welcoming her son | Source: Pexels

A woman welcoming her son | Source: Pexels

Candace breezed into the kitchen, her blond hair perfectly styled, wearing heels no sane person would cook in. “Hi, Margaret,” she said, barely looking at me. “We thought we’d come early and help.”

“Help?” I repeated, stunned. Candace had never once offered to help with a meal in the 10 years she’d been part of this family.

An elderly woman and her daughter-in-law | Source: Pexels

An elderly woman and her daughter-in-law | Source: Pexels

Chloe bounded in behind her, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Hi, Grandma!” She hugged me tight, and I hugged her back, grateful for the warmth.

Candace clapped her hands. “So, what can I do?”

I hesitated. Was this some kind of olive branch? Or was she up to something? Brad smiled. “C’mon, Mom. Let her pitch in. You’ve done so much already.”

A thoughtful elderly woman | Source: Freepik

A thoughtful elderly woman | Source: Freepik

“Alright,” I said slowly. “Candace, you can watch the turkey. I’ll go freshen up for a minute.”

Upstairs, I meant to splash water on my face, maybe sit for a moment to rest my legs. But when I sat down, exhaustion took over. I must’ve dozed off because when I opened my eyes, the house was buzzing with voices.

A sleeping elderly woman | Source: Pexels

A sleeping elderly woman | Source: Pexels

“Oh no,” I muttered, jumping up. I hurried downstairs and froze at the dining room doorway.

The table was set, and everyone was already eating. Candace sat at the head of the table, smiling as guests complimented her food.

“This turkey looks incredible,” Aunt Linda said, cutting into her slice.

Cutting turkey | Source: Pexels

Cutting turkey | Source: Pexels

“I worked so hard on it,” Candace said, tossing her hair.

I blinked. Worked hard? None of this looked like my food. My mashed potatoes were creamy, not clumpy. My stuffing had sage, not whatever green flecks this was. Where was my pecan pie?

Feeling a growing knot in my stomach, I slipped into the kitchen. The smell hit me first—sweet potatoes, turkey drippings, and… the trash?

A suspicious woman | Source: Pexels

A suspicious woman | Source: Pexels

I opened the trash can, and my heart dropped. There were my dishes, sealed containers and all, tossed in with coffee grounds and napkins.

My hands trembled. “What—”

“Grandma?” Chloe’s voice came from behind me. I turned, my eyes filling with tears of anger and hurt. “Did you see—”

Sweet potatoes in a trash bin | Source: Midjourney

Sweet potatoes in a trash bin | Source: Midjourney

“I saw,” she whispered, stepping closer. She looked around to make sure no one else was nearby. “She threw it all out when you were upstairs.”

My voice cracked. “Why would she—”

“Don’t worry,” Chloe said, taking my hand. Her eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t quite place. “I took care of it.”

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Pexels

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Pexels

“What do you mean?”

Chloe smiled. “Just trust me, Grandma. Come on, let’s go back to the table and watch the show.”

And with that, she pulled me toward the dining room, leaving the kitchen and my ruined dishes behind.

The dining room fell quiet. Forks hovered mid-air, and puzzled looks passed between the guests.

A photo of a Thanksgiving dinner | Source: Pexels

A photo of a Thanksgiving dinner | Source: Pexels

“This… uh…” Brad said, his brow furrowed as he chewed slowly. “It’s a little… intense?”

“I think I got a bad piece,” Aunt Linda murmured, reaching for her water glass. “Is it me, or is the stuffing… salty?”

“Salty?” Uncle Jim echoed, his face twisting into a grimace. “This isn’t salty; it’s seawater! What’s in this?”

A frowning elderly man | Source: Midjourney

A frowning elderly man | Source: Midjourney

Candace’s confident smile wavered. “Oh no,” she said, her voice a little too loud. “Really? It’s salty? I must’ve, uh, overdone the seasoning.” Her laugh sounded forced, and her cheeks turned pink. “I was rushing, you know, trying to get everything perfect.”

Chloe nudged me under the table. “Go ahead,” she whispered, her voice low and mischievous.

“What?” I whispered back.

A mischievous girl | Source: Midjourney

A mischievous girl | Source: Midjourney

“Try it,” she said, barely holding back her grin.

I glanced at my plate. With growing suspicion, I cut a small piece of turkey and placed it in my mouth.

Immediately, my eyes widened. The turkey was so salty, it made my tongue burn. The stuffing wasn’t any better—it was inedible. I quickly reached for my water, trying not to laugh.

Shocked elderly woman | Source: Freepik

Shocked elderly woman | Source: Freepik

“Well,” I said, dabbing at my mouth, “that’s… something.”

Chloe giggled quietly, and I caught her wink.

The rest of the table wasn’t as composed. Aunt Linda set her fork down with a clink. “I can’t eat this,” she said gently, trying to smile but failing.

Uncle Jim wasn’t so diplomatic. “Candace, this stuffing could preserve a mummy.”

An angry elderly man | Source: Midjourney

An angry elderly man | Source: Midjourney

Candace’s smile grew tighter. “Oh, I—I don’t know what happened,” she said, her voice pitching higher. “Maybe the turkey brine was too strong? Or the seasoning mix was bad?”

That was my cue. I stood, clearing my throat. “Well,” I said, raising my glass of sparkling cider, “let’s not worry too much about one little mishap. Cooking for a big crowd is no small task, after all.”

A woman toasting at a dinner | Source: Pexels

A woman toasting at a dinner | Source: Pexels

Brad smiled, relieved. “That’s true, Mom. Let’s toast to Candace for all her hard work today.”

“Oh, absolutely,” I added with a sweet smile. “Candace really outdid herself. And since everyone’s still hungry, I have a little surprise of my own.”

Candace’s smile froze. “You do?” she asked, her voice higher than usual.

A woman with a stiff smile | Source: Midjourney

A woman with a stiff smile | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, yes,” I said, setting my glass down. “I had a feeling we might need a backup plan, so I prepared some extra dishes. They’re out in the garage fridge. Brad, could you give me a hand?”

The room buzzed with murmurs as Brad followed me out. I opened the fridge, revealing my carefully prepared Thanksgiving dishes still in their containers, untouched.

“Wow, Mom,” Brad said, lifting the heavy pan of turkey. “You really went all out this year.”

A woman setting turkey on the table | Source: Pexels

A woman setting turkey on the table | Source: Pexels

“Just wanted to be prepared,” I said lightly, though my heart was racing with satisfaction.

We returned to the dining room, and I began setting my dishes on the table: the golden turkey, fluffy mashed potatoes, savory stuffing, and my famous pecan pie. The guests’ faces lit up.

“This looks amazing,” Aunt Linda said, her hands clasped in delight.

A smiling woman at a Thanksgiving dinner | Source: Pexels

A smiling woman at a Thanksgiving dinner | Source: Pexels

“Finally, real food!” Uncle Jim said with a chuckle, earning a few laughs.

Candace sat stiffly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Oh, you didn’t have to go to all that trouble, Margaret,” she said, her voice tight.

Later, after the guests had gone, I stood in the kitchen, wrapping leftovers in foil. Candace walked in, her heels clicking softly against the tile.

An ashamed woman | Source: Freepik

An ashamed woman | Source: Freepik

She cleared her throat. “Margaret, I just wanted to say… I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what came over me when I threw your food out. I just thought, you know, it might be too… old-fashioned.”

I looked at her for a moment, taking in her discomfort. “I appreciate the apology, Candace,” I said finally, keeping my tone even. “I know you were trying to help in your own way.”

She nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t used to admitting fault.

A smiling woman talking to her daughter-in-law | Source: Pexels

A smiling woman talking to her daughter-in-law | Source: Pexels

As she left the kitchen, Chloe appeared, her hands full of pie plates. “Grandma, your food saved Thanksgiving,” she said, grinning.

I laughed softly. “I think you had a hand in that, sweetheart.”

“Mom’s never going to forget this,” she said, her grin widening.

A smiling girl at a dinner | Source: Midjourney

A smiling girl at a dinner | Source: Midjourney

“Well,” I said, pulling her into a hug, “the important thing is that you stood up for me. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Chloe beamed. “Anything for you, Grandma.”

As I turned out the kitchen lights that night, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. The day hadn’t gone as planned, but it had reminded me of something far more precious than tradition or perfect meals: the fierce, loyal love of my granddaughter.

An elderly woman hugging her granddaughter | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman hugging her granddaughter | Source: Midjourney

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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