It was just the two of us. I knew no one would come if I screamed for no one was home, just me and him, alone in my bedroom. He stood in the doorway, blocking my exit, trapping me inside. My choices were either try to jump out the window or be strong and face him.I feared he had a posse waiting by the window so I didn't move. And there we stood. Both staring at each other, both wondering who would make the first move. My eyes scanned the room for a weapon, something to bash him over the head with, something to use to try to protect myself. As I looked, he moved a little closer, as if taunting me. I couldn't stand for this any longer, he would be the one leaving my house, I don't care if it be dead or alive.
"Alright Cockroach, I have things to do, we can't be having this mexican standoff all day!"
It was as if the cockroach understood english because at that moment he sprinted towards me, his little feet carrying him in a drunk bee line faster than I ever thought possible. I had no idea where his angle of attack would be. I immediately screamed in fear and jumped on my bed. He crawled under my bed and I was able to make an escape out of my room. But what kind of victory is that? Knowing that when I go back there to sleep he will be silently waiting for me, breathing underneath my bed, just waiting for his perfect moment to fulfill his plot to kill me, climb in my mouth while I'm asleep and thereby suffocate me. I had to face him for real.
I acquired some standard military weaponry, a broom, a flashlight, and a large soled shoe, and stepped foot back on the battlegrounds hoping my enemy was still in his dark trench. I cautiously lowered myself to the floor but stayed several feet away from the edge of the bed out of fear of a calculated "charge!". I shined my flashlight under the bed.
"Where are you, you little bugger!?"
He had vanished. Or so I thought. I ended up prodding the broom under the bed to see if I could sense movement and I discovered this roach was more prepared than me. He was already in camouflage and blended in perfectly with my bedpost. So I began to strategize. How do I get him out to kill him without risking him touching me? It was time for more advanced weaponry. Gas. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed my bottle of hairspray. I then laid on top of my bed, lowered my hand with the hairspray down and fired.
A glossy and sticky cockroach scrambled out from under the bed and I pounced like a mad woman, screaming and slamming my shoe on the ground in rapid succession.
"THIS. IS. RESEDAAAAAA!!!"
It took seven swings but I got him. His body crumbled under the pressure and I was pronounced victor!
His lifeless body was care flighted to a nearby bathroom facility where he was properly disposed of.
Yes I, a vegetarian, had taken a life, and was damn proud of it. I returned to the scene of the murder and cleaned up the murder weapon and any remains. My murder was untraceable.
Unfortunately I think that cockroach was well respected and belonged to a gang of avengeful repulsvive pests and insects that have decided to repeatedly show their face on my turf.
It's gonna be all out war. 1 vs. 300.
But i'm prepared. I have come across a powerful method of fighting.
Chemical war fare.
Bring it on bitches!