Epic

So, I think when many people think of traveling to Africa, they picture bugs. Giant blood sucking mosquitoes, brilliantly colored spiders, and huge roaches. Fortunately, living in an urban apartment, there have been, for the most part less bugs here even than in our dear old Ortlip House. But last night, I noticed in the gap between the carpet and the wall a large, black thing. I left it alone for a while, feeling like I might be better off not knowing what it was, but when I saw the twitching of antennas, I knew it was a roach. This, in itself, was no great problem. We have had many a roach in our house in Texas, tho none quite this big, but tho a bit uneasy, I felt like I could leave him alone and he would gradually either find his way out or expire quietly somewhere. So, I went to sleep, leaving him in his quiet gap in peace, woke up the next morning to no very apparent sign of roachiness, and went about my day. But tonight, after I got home after our Friday Feast, there he was again, not so much lying quietly in the gap as buzzing about the room in a rather distracting manner. I am okay with stationary roaches, but when they become that mobile, I start to get a little more resentful. Then he did some complicated aerial maneuvers in the corner, landed on the floor about four feet away and started crawling toward me and hid under the little table directly to me right. Well, that was the last straw, this act of aggression clearly ending our former peaceful accord. There was nothing to do but go for the spray. There is a bottle of some kind of chlorine syrup under my sink that I am supposed to use for disinfecting vegetables, but chlorine really sounded like a ghastly way to die and I didn’t know how to administer it without getting too close or bleaching my lovely bright blue and yellow carpet. Fortunately, there right next to my chlorine goo was my trusty can of Baygon, which had a picture on it of what could have been my roach’s twin brother, so I figured that I had the right stuff. I read the directions on how to harness the can’s “Instant Killing Power” and fired away underneath the little cabinet. For a few moments, silence, then suddenly, I heard certain bumping and tapping sounds as the roach struggled beneath the cabinet. Then, in a last ditch effort to take me out with him, he lunged from underneath the cabinet towards me, antenna wiggling, fangs and claws bared, driving for my jugular. With another blast of killing spray and a mighty cry, I drove him under the couch. He began to writhe and struggle, and cried out threats of everlasting vengeance, but now the death throes were upon him. In mercy, I shot him a couple more times to speed his demise. He didn’t stand a chance against the Baygon, but I shall be sure to inform his survivors that he died well, no bribe attempts or blubbering. [I am so freaking Wild at Heart]

But, I have to say, it was something of a Pyrrhic victory, as now my apartment holds a somewhat lingering aroma of rancid cornbread that will be hard, I think, to ignore.

(Yes, that was for you, Thryn. You better read this now.)