Mothman Fears

One night last week, my racist, Italian housemate, Nando, and I were watching TV together in the lounge. It being a warm night, Nando had opened the back window at my request. All of a sudden, a moth flew in the window and began that erratic flying pattern they do, spiraling towards the light in the corner. Then Nando jerked up from his reclining position, saying, "I hate those bloody things." I watched all this with casual amusement.
"Nando," I said, "you're not afraid of moths, are you?"
"I can't stand them," he replied, all the while ducking and diving in time to the little winged creature's movements. I started laughing out loud at this. "I can handle spiders and snakes, but I can't take these things flying at you. Hurry up and kill it!" he stated.
As if it understood Nando's violent intentions, the moth disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. "Nando, I could understand being afraid of snakes, or spiders, because they could be poisonous, and could kill you," I explained, "but a moth can't do you any harm. It's a tiny, little thing and very delicate."
"I can't stand the way they fly around" he replied.
"Are you afraid of butterflies, too?" I asked.
"Butterflies don't bother me," Nando said. There doesn't seem to be that much difference between moths and butterflies, to me. Nando explained that butterflies don't fly at you and fly slower. I rolled my eyes at such petty differences. If someone wanted to torture Nando, all the torturer would have to do is lock Nando in a room with a dozen moths and an electric light. Nando looks like he's not afraid of anything. He's normally quite calm and not easily upset. Who'd have thought that something as small and insubstantial as a moth would terrify him?
I went up to bed, leaving Nando sitting anxiously in the lounge, looking this way and that, least the moth return. He said he'd have to kill it before he went to bed. As I left, Nando asked me to kill the flying creature, if I should run into it on my journey upstairs. I couldn't be bothered to even notice if I passed the moth, or not. The next day, Nando reported to me that said moth had indeed met his demise, at Nando's hands. He'd tracked it down before gong to bed, himself. Nando won that victory and it remains until the next little moth creature finds its way into the house. It might be fun to see what Nando would do if there were two months in the room, at the same time.