What really bugs me: Deep in the Heart of Fear

Almost die every time I see a roach

My neighbor stopped by one evening while I was working in the yard. He marveled at my dancing as he saw it from his window, asking what I was so happy about. I looked at him quizzically and ask dancing? He said it looked like I was really getting down. Oh that I said, realizing what he had seen. That wasn’t dancing. That was me trying to stomp on a roach. A very fast one. Going round in circles. Quite spry this one. He chuckled saying he understood, adding that he’ll go out of his way to unalive those disgusting things. It’s like I have a twin. 

Basically what I see when one flies at me

Should you desire to hear an otherworldly screech, be in my living room late at night when one comes flying at me. How I must look through the window, arms flailing in the air, ducking and running as some invisible oddity will surely send me to the center of a black hole. And the thoughts going through the micro brain of the beast as it’s flying through my living room towards my hair must be of interest. Do you think they know the fear they cause people like me? What does maniacal roach laughter sound like? I bet more humorous than terrifying. 

Howdy from the Houston Rodeo, ya'll

I’m from Texas—born and raised. Seventh generation. I know all about roaches and how they will be here long after humans have expired. This doesn’t endear them to me in the least. They are everywhere in Texas. I laugh when reading a restaurant review and the horror of seeing a roach while dining. That’s just as normal as pee in a public pool. It’s disgusting and simply something you have to put up with. Just be glad they’re not the ones I had in my college dorm room. I’d wake up at night to catch them trying steal away with my mini fridge. Those beasts.

Shortly after providing my looky-loo neighbor some free dance entertainment, I was speaking to a woman at work who mentioned the horror that shakes her to the core at the sight of a large scampering scoundrel. “Is there anything more disgusting than walking into the room first thing in the morning and finding a dead roach on its back,” she asked. Well, um, yeah. Finding one drop from the ceiling and making me target practice. “Touche,” she admitted. 

The only image of a roach I can stomach is Milquetoast
from Bloom County Comics

It is troublesome how they always die on their backs looking up at me like they are judging me for having ended their life. I try to remember that all life is precious, but I’m so thankful that my insecticide works as well as it does and that I find them dead more often than alive. In a god’s name, I often exclaim, and then fetch the dust pan to toss it in the trash where it truly belongs. 

My co worker said she actually looked into why they die on their backs. I let her continue for some odd reason, realizing as she didn’t get too far into the story that I was beginning to shudder just thinking about them. Like bats (and I love me some bats) they can’t just pick up and fly- they have to drop. So when they are in their death throes, they flutter their wings and end up on their back where they can’t right themselves again. Well the poor things. Good riddance. 

Then there was the time I came into my bedroom and found one belly down. Turns out I can emit nearly the same sound when finding them unexpectedly, just sitting on the floor before they begin to scurry, even though they're not flying towards my head. I backed away cautiously to fetch the bug kill spray and returned to find that it hadn’t moved an inch. Odd, I thought. I gave it a big dose of liquid bug death and it didn’t respond; it was dead already. I don’t know if the cats played with it or what. So off for the dustpan I went unsure which is better: having them look up at me from the other side of the veil and knowing it’s dead, or thinkingI’ve found a live one and giving my heart a boost. In the end, I guess I’ll take a dead roach any ole way. 
 

Follow and leave a comment. 

Like poetry? You can get signed copies of my 3 books by visiting www.PenguinScott.com

Buy my books!