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The cockroach...such a disgusting little bugger!
I was born and raised in New Jersey and trust me we had our fair share of disgusting bugs (and people) there, but surprisingly our cockroaches, as nasty as they were, weren't really all that bad. They were small in size, hid when the lights came on and for the most part only frequented dirty places...and when stepped on them, they blew up like little jelly and cream filled donuts. A nuisance yes, disgusting yes, but yet nothing a can a Black Flag or Raid couldn't handle.
Then in the mid-90s I moved to Florida, the land of palm trees, beautiful beaches and the industrial size cockroach. They don't want to scare people so they call it a palmetto bug...but trust me, it's a cockroach.
The first time I came across one of these monstrosities I had to do a double take, because I really thought I was seeing things, the thing was the size of freaking peanut butter jar...and looked extra crunchy too. I kept my distance from it while trying to find something to smash it with believing that I was fine as long as I kept an eye on it...but boy was I wrong. As I was scurrying about trying to figure out what household item I was going to choose to use as the bringer of death the bastard started to move. Being startled I jumped back, the whole time still keeping my eye on it....again, thinking I was safe. Then all of the sudden the creepy brown bug of doom opened up it's wings and started taking flight.
I stood there in awe, like as if I was witnessing the second coming of Christ, not moving a muscle. The nasty thing flew right at me landing on my chest, so I did what all grown men would do in that situation...I ran out of the room screaming. That freakish critter clinging to my chest as I ran...it was right in the center too, I looked like the white-trash version of Superman...Cockroach man. It finally fell off and landed on the floor...now with tears running down my face, and while trying to catch my breath, I went into the kitchen and grabbed some roach spray...I was done playing around.
I came back to find it still sitting in the same spot on the floor, as if it was taunting me, telling me to make my move...it was like we were in a Wild West standoff. So I unloaded on it, spraying nearly the entire can on it, the whole time laughing maniacally like a mad scientist...feeling vindicated, as if I showed it...I got the last laugh. The can was now just about empty, the cloud of poison was settling and I was all ready to see the dead body just laying there so I could pick it up and flush it down the toilet...sending it to it's watery grave.
When all was said and done it was still alive and kicking...staggering a little like as if it just came from the bar and had a little too much to drink...I couldn't believe my eyes. I was freaking out trying to kill this thing and it was living it it up. Now I had an intoxicated roach on my hands...who no doubt was getting a good laugh at my antics...and I must say, I now know how Wile E. Coyote felt...stupid Road Runner.
Finally having enough, I decide I'm going to just step on it...and just end it all. I didn't have shoes on, so I thought about dropping a piece of paper on it and then jumping on the paper with it under it...but I had a bad feeling I would jump on and he would take off...leaving me on a roach powered skateboard...and I wasn't having that.
So I figured I would do the next best thing...I called the cops and waited outside until they showed up and I had the officer go in and kill it for me.