Flying Fuckers
I know I’ve been overblogging the past few days, but there’s been a lot of silly stuff to share. I promise I’ll slow down soon. These things come in waves.
So this dog-sized cockroach was on the wall in the kitchen. It was the second of its kind I saw tonight. I got a broom to kill it, and it took flight into the other room. I, of course, screamed. I hate those flying fuckers. Eek! I really do. So anyway, a little while later, I see Jeep very interested in the bathroom floor, and the little bugger is upside-down, kicking its legs into the air. She is interested but also scared. I mean, she backed away from it. It was, after all, the size of a dog. I got a magazine and THWACK! It, like the guy from earlier, was dead in an Abby-instant.
Please let there be no cockroaches in my bedroom while I sleep. Please oh please. I’m not cut out for this heat or these creatures. I’m really not.
Comment by elena
June 16, 2005 @ 9:43 am
I’m too much of a nancy to get close enough to use a magazine or newspaper. I have an old broom with which I batter the creatures to death from a farther distance. All while shreiking, of course.
I thought the enormity of the flying roach was due to the old, filthy, infested buildings in New York City – that they’d come from normal-sized creatures who’d “evolved” into giants.
Blechh.