A Butterfly Is Just A Moth Lie -The Toast

What’s messed up of butterflies is everything. Never let anyone try to tell at you that a butterfly is beautiful, because butterflies are just full-on lies a moth tries to tell you. Let me explain.

A of all, a moth is hands-up-and-back-down again the worst actual bug there is. Worse than spiders, which are bugs and don’t let anyone tell you different, worse than worms that swim inside your leg from the Amazon and then hatch eggs on you in that episode of Grey’s Anatomy, worse than a clacking nest of cockroaches straight up flying at your nose, typing out your name in Morse code with the clacking of their hard-ass wings. I would rather wear a wedding dress made of lightly furred baby wolf spiders, all of which were just starting to wake up and open their eyes, than even be in the same room as a moth for a second. A moth is a flying nightmare dressed like a ghost, and I say to heckfuck with all of them.

We’ve got to finish addressing why a moth is so bad before I explain to you why fuck butterflies, so let me lay it outworth for you:

1. A moth flies like a determined blind gibbet. It’s fucked up how a moth flies in a million different directions at once, and you can hear the light flutter of its wings slushfing against each other as it skids wildly from one surface to the next. A moth is always two seconds away from flying mindlessly into your hair, where it will get tangled for a hundred percent of forever, and it will always flap madly against your neck, and it will never get out.

2. A moth folds its wings back like a fighter jet when it lands on the wall. Either that or it spreads them out like a freaky mockery of the Crucifixion. Both of those positions are too much planning from a bug. Why’s it only ever in one of two positions? A: EERILY STILL. B: MOVING AS MUCH AS ANYTHING HAS EVER MOVED. Moths don’t fly, they are AIRBORNE SHUDDERS. You can’t predict which way a moth is going to move next, and that’s terrifying.

3. Moths are SOFT. LIKE VELVET, OR AN OLD-TIMEY GENTLEMAN’S HAND. BUGS SHOULD NEVER BE SOFT, BUT THESE ONES ARE, LIKE THE FUR YOU GET ON YOUR TONGUE WHEN YOU’VE BEEN REALLY SICK, OR THE SOFT BLUE MOLD THAT BLOOMS ALL SICKLY-LIKE ACROSS TOO-WARM BREAD. YOU KNOW WHAT FEELS THE SAME AS TOUCHING A MOTH? TOUCHING A BABY RAT. BUGS HAVE GOT NO BUSINESS FEELING LIKE MAMMALS, SKIN-WISE.

4. Sometimes moths have FEATHERS. THAT’S WHAT BIRDS HAVE.

Okay, so those are some good reasons to hate moths. But a butterfly isn’t a moth, right? WRONG. Look at a butterfly close up. Forget the wing trappings. LOOK AT THE BUG THEREIN. IT’S A MOTH WEARING SOMEONE’S FANCY COAT AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT. Same twitched-up spindly legs, same nightmare body, same bristling appendages. Same flight pattern. All butterflies fly like they’ve just been poisoned. I don’t care how shimmery their sails are, they ruin the air by darting around like a pair of hands clapping silently.

Also, some butterflies migrate in really far directions? What right do bugs have to travel so much? That’s for birds. You stay where you are. You’re bugs.

“Oh, a chrysalis is great and so pretty.” You know what’s inside of a chrysalis, my dudes? A shivering, twitching convulsion of a smashed-up bug whose insides are throwing themselves up into a brand-new body. It is not, and never has been, okay that halfway through their lives moths and butterflies get to stop and immure themselves in a sac of, I don’t know, some sort of gel or pus they probably extrude from their horrible appendages before flattening themselves into a sickly body-bag and trembling into something new. Imagine a PERSON doing that.

“Where’s Mike?”

“Oh, he buried himself in the dirt behind his house. Even as we speak, his eyelids are pressed against the black earth, and his limbs contort in all manner of unspeakable positions, as his thorax cracks open and his bones take on a new and unseelie shape.”

YOU WOULD NOT ASK MIKE TO LAND DELICATELY ON YOUR FINGER AND SIP NECTAR FROM A PAPER CUP YOU BOUGHT FOR 25 CENTS, PROBABLY, IS ALL I’M SAYING.

Also here is a picture of some butterflies drinking blood through a sock I found on Wikipedia.