Last year a woman moved in upstairs and brought cockroaches with her. Not the big sewer roaches, but the small, evil, little brown ones that can live between the pages of a book. I have kept everything clean, bombed, sprayed, and found out Pine-Sol works the best, FYI.
At first I just screamed, ran to find a shoe, and hoped the roach would stay put. But now that I am a master roach assassin, I’ve even smacked a few with my bare hands!
However, every time I go for one I worry that this one will be a ninja roach. I imagine the massacre would look like this:
As I reach out, tissue in my hand to squish the roach clinging to the wall with its dirty feet, the roach blocks the tissue, grabs my finger, and flips me onto my back.
As the breath is forced out of my body, the roach gives a battle cry before biting off my finger.
I scream as thousands of roaches cover my body, their tiny feet crawling over me like tiny needles. They began to feast on my flesh. They devour my body within minutes. The bones take longer, but by morning there is nothing left of me.
Rod looks everywhere, wondering where I have gone. Then he spots the crumpled tissue on the floor. A delicate spray of my blood is the only sign something bad has happened.
Realizing the roaches have killed me, he quickly packs up the children and drives away, fearing that the roaches might attack them next.
And this is what flashes before my eyes everything I go and squish a roach, which is why I should be honored for bravery for each and every kill.
Are you a good bug killer?