Home Invasion

I noticed something on the wall as I lay on my couch, watching my all-time-favorite TV show, Pretty Little Liars on ABC family (not only do I buy every episode on Amazon.com, I have read the entire book series, which I borrowed from my 17-year-old cousin).  I saw the something scuttle from above the TV set (just kidding, we don't have a TV set! We have a computer.) to the kitchen (again, I kid.  We have kitchen area, or a kitchenette).  As much as I wanted to ignore it and hope that it would find it's way out, I knew I couldn't.

If it were just a spider, in the absolute worst-case scenario I could possibly imagine, I would wake up in the middle of the night with a spider on my face (and most likely trying to get into my mouth or nose), and you know what?  I can live with that.  However, this was no spider.  It was a larger-than-life cockroach, and in a worst-case scenario, I would wake up with a cockroach on my face.

I had to do something.

My first inclination was to wait for Ken to come home.  He was at a movie screening for a friend of his.  I actually had almost gone (in fact, I had walked in the door), but really didn't want to and apparently was whining enough that Ken finally said (after I was through the door), "Fine, you can leave."   I bolted.

Anyway, I texted Ken that I was under attack by a giant cockroach, and he did not offer to leave the party and come to my rescue.  Some boyfriend.  Plan A was out.

The bug was moving fast.  Too fast to be caught using the ordinary cup-over-bug method.  I had to think of something better, and preferably something that would allow me to stay far away from the horrifying creature.  I found a broom, and prepared myself to fight back.

I followed it into a ceiling corner (I, standing on the peninsula-shaped counter of my kitchen-area) and swung.  And missed.  I know that I didn't give it my all.  I was still hoping Ken would come home, and if I could avoid squashing a bug against my white kitchen-area walls and then scraping off its remains, I would.  The bug ran for cover onto my counter and into my fruit bowl.  I tried to put a pan over it so that I could trap him until Ken came home, but the bowl was too full and the pan wouldn't lie flat.

Retreating to the couch, I again debated whether or not I could simply ignore the beast, but I knew I couldn't--I might wake up in the middle of the night to find it on my face.  Or I might squish it into my shoe the following morning as I put my shoes on, not knowing he was lurking inside.  Or he might attack me while I tried to finish Pretty Little Liars in peace.  No, there was no waiting.  I had to destroy him.

I regained composure and went in for the kill.  I startled him out of the fruit bowl, and he retreated behind the ipod dock.  Slowly, I nudged the ipod dock over until the devil was exposed, and SMASH.  I broomed him.  He wasn't dead (as far as I know, cockroaches cannot die), but stunned and mangled, so I covered him with a glass and waited until my nerves were calm.  By the time I was ready, he was revitalizing and trying to escape the glass!  I'm sure he would of had I given him a few more minutes, but I scooped him up and deposited him in the toilet.  I flushed and watched him disappear.  When the tank refilled, I flushed again (as far as I know, cockroaches cannot die, and they can swim up-pipe in drainage systems.  Half drowned and mangled, he would crawl back out of my toilet and attack me in my sleep).

I counted to ten to make sure he did not resurface, and declared victory.