Last night while I was watching movie previews in my basement and being promised by the man with the rich baritone voice that this film would be THE explosive feel good juggernaut of the summer, I was confronted by the second most evil creature you can encounter during the warm months in the city.
The bold, massive, and unrepentant cockroach.
He chugged on over like we were old friends at a high school reunion bobbing his little antennae and looking for a conversation opener.
Before I continue with the part that has me screaming and running for the spray can of Raid, I’d like to point out that I’m not the squeamish type and I do possess an understanding of the many urban creatures that city dwellers have to accept and deal with .
Rats and cockroaches are the two filth riddled mistakes that I cannot come to terms with.
There is something about a bug or animal that counts eating shit, carrying around plague and skittering through dark alleyways among its merits that gives me reason for pause.
So here I was in a Mexican style standoff with Mitch the friendly cockroach who I would need to pole vault over to get to the bug spray on the opposite side of the room.
He clearly didn’t have the common decency to turn and run for his life. He just sat there, and looked disappointed that I’d dashed by and we didn’t get that chance to catch up.
I hit him so fast the poor bastard didn’t even see it coming before he shriveled up in that painfully contorted way people do when you cover them in deadly chemicals.
And then he died.
But because I’m no dummy and I’ve spent countless years watching horror movies where the killer/monster has seemingly expired but then jumps up again to begin its third full assault on its exhausted victim who’s all like “JUST DIE ALREADY!” but she can’t scream as she no longer has use of her vocal cords because that monster ripped them out in the last scene.
And that is ironic AND sad because if she could yell maybe those banjo playing neighbors could give her a hand.
Now let’s all go back to standing over the dead cockroach we left earlier in the story shall we?
Because I don’t ever trust a first death I sprinkled him with Comet and doused him with a Clorox wipe that while creating a low hanging toxic cloud in my basement, insured he was indeed expired and not “faking it”.
So, while I went to war and vanquished the Kaiser Soze of the insect world his comrades still remain out there walking the streets under cover of darkness waiting for an opportunity to strike.
An open door, a crack in the foundation, a missed visit from Orkin Pest Control. You never know what might trigger the onslaught, just don’t be caught unprepared.