Oh the horror!!!!
Upon whipping open my shower curtain this morning, I found a live tree roach, the approximate size of a cellphone, lounging around in my bathtub. This monster was lying on its back lasciviously waving its antennas at me. For some unknown reason, these creatures choose to sneak into my house to die. It’s not like there’s a sign on my door saying “Tree Roach Memorial Home”, so I don’t know why they can’t just politely die outside in the nice weather. Not realizing the horrors that were about to be inflicted on me, I chuckled good-naturedly and enquired of the roach “So, are you doing the backstroke? ha ha!” I then used a plunger to deliver the dying beast into the peaceful final resting place of the bathroom trashcan (one mustn’t get too close to these awful things in case they decide to leap onto your face and devour your brain). No sooner had it landed in the trashcan, with a thud that caused the building to shake on its foundations, than it immediately failed to die!!!! Lacking a shred of common decency, the damn thing landed on its feet and started to do the roach macarena in amongst the discarded tissues and other trash. Which meant, dear reader, that I could not simply dump the contents of the trash into the toilet. OK, I thought, stay calm, it wouldn’t be in the house if death wasn’t imminent, have some respect for the dying. So, I dumped the contents of that trashcan into another one into which I was about to scoop the kat boxes. Some mildly alarming rustling sounds emanated from the trashcan which began to rock slightly from side to side as the beast threw its weight against the trashcan walls which then began to quiver and bulge. So, it wants to play hardball, I thought as I calmly groped for the closest weapon. Which turned out to be an aerosol can of Lysol. I gave the SOB a liberal spraying, which had the instant effect of doing absolutely nothing but turning my opponent into a fresh-smelling LIVE roach. It jauntily RAN up the inside of the trashcan, appearing at the top like one of those mutant elephant-sized ants you see in those old B movies … did a few pushups on the lip of the trashcan, flipped me off, and crouched down in an “attack face and devour brain” pre-leap position. Rather than panic, I screamed like the girl that I am, almost fell on my arse, and grabbed for The Ultimate Weapon: the kat box scooper! With the strength and speed that only sheer terror can endow, I brought that scooper down so hard and fast onto the monster’s head that I felt shockwaves travel throughout my entire body. Achilles, the Great Warrior, has nothing on me. And, no, I did not subsequently scream and leap back in horror with a pounding heart when I accidentally mistook an embroidered flower on my shower curtain as another of the beasts …