Drunk Moth

So I'm sitting on my porch reading the thrilling adventures of XML when this brownish orange moth flutters down before me. He slowly leans over on his side and pulls himself around in little circles. He manages to right himself, but it isn't long before he falls forward on his face. There he rests, twitching only occasionally as passing ants nibble his feet. The ants eventually startle him into a bleary-eyed upright position and he just stands there in a drunken nap. Eventually, I decide that the time is drawing nigh for me to poke him. So, I do. I can almost hear him grumble as he tries to ignore me. But I prove to be more tenacious than those ants with their short attention spans. So...poke, poke, poke. Finally, he flutters off after much prodding. I have my standards. I can't have just anybody passing out on my porch. If I let that kind of activity continue, I might wake up one morning to find a bumble bee taking a pee in the bushes. Young lizards fornicating on the patio furniture. I might trip over the cows' empty whiskey bottles or bump my leg on a shopping cart full of owls still tripping their feathery balls off and wearing ladies underwear. I gotta draw the line somewhere, and I draw the line at drunken moths.