This is just like a story I read once, only instead of being a giant bug I'm just not at home. You know, I've heard of an old Chinese curse about living in interesting times, and I've always secretly hoped I would bother the delivery boy at the Gilded Wok enough to lay it on me - and I almost dare to hope all that fuss about precisely how young the eggs were is having some effect at last. Things were getting so boring at home; all my old playmates got themselves in lock-up...