Roaches

[beehammer]

(archived from tumblr)

The worst thing about waking up in the middle of the night and going to do something and being confronted with a three-inch-long paleolithic monster roach is that that’s it.  There’s no going back to sleep. 

Either you

• a) refuse to deal with this because it’s three o’clock in the fucking morning and spend the rest of your night/week/life tensing and breaking into a cold sweat at every unknown rustle and crinkle and skritch because goddammit it’s the roach

or

• b) get into a fucking fight to the death with the damned thing that you’ll be lucky to get out of without it taking flight right into your face, but one thing’s for sure, you’re going to be too jacked to go back to sleep afterwards.

And the roach knows it. 

You can see it in the way they stare at you with their little roach eyes and wave their also-three-inch-long antennae at you.  You turned on the lights and spotted them licking your washcloth, and now it’s High Noon at the OK Corral and both of you are waiting for the other one to reach for it. 

Like, you’re Godzilla to their Samurai Jack, but you’re also flailing around an environment where you’re the one that suffers if anything breaks or gets damaged, and they’ve got six arms and wings and no problem going out in a blaze of glory.

And before anybody says “Well, you’re just exaggerating for comedic effect,” let me tell you something, buddy: I am not. 

This is a universal experience, when you live in areas with a certain sort of roach.  You wake up your roommates/loved ones/neighbors with a racket that’s only reasonable if you’re attempting to beat somebody to death with their own shoes and they say “What the hell?”, if your answer is “There was a roach!” the only further question will be “Well, did you get it?”.  God help you if the answer is no.