The Saga of the Creepy Bug

So, I was pulling weeds this afternoon, you see, and while I was tirelessly pulling hundreds of wild plants from the dirty soil of the asparagus bed, I noticed that one of the wooden poles supporting the tin roof on the side of the shed was riddled with holes. Upon closer observation, I discovered a system of tunnels that apparently had been previously discovered by a woodpecker of some sort.
Inside one of the holes I saw a small bug peeking out. As soon as it saw me, it started staring angrily and tapping its feet, much as I would do if someone was staring into my window while I was tunneling through my house. I tapped on the walls of its apartment (for no particular reason, of course), left, came back, and saw it doing what I thought at first was washing itself, but as it didn't seem to be paying me any mind even when I tapped its walls, I decided that it must be doing some sort of ritual dance to scare away giants. It must have thought its dance worked when I walked away to continue weeding.
I returned shortly to see it calmly doing whatever bugs do... until it saw me. Immediately, seeing that its dance had not worked, it began screaming and shaking its little bug fists at me. I was a bit taken aback, especially when, after less than a minute, it suddenly seemed to calm down and just stare at me. I at first supposed that it might have gotten used to the fact that I really wasn't leaving, but then I saw its sinister grin. I discerned that it was trying to tell me that it was just as crazy and dangerous as I was.
I left it alone after that.