Last night, I contributed to the death of the biggest cockroach I have seen to date. What had he done to deserve such a cruel execution by way of flipping, scraggling and drowning in a never-ending stream of RAID poisonous spray? Nothing, really. He was simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
You see, if you’re a giant cockroach who happens to be hanging around on the doorbell outside my apartment, and by the time I actually notice you, you’re a mere 2 inches from my face, I have no choice but to (shriek like a banshee and then) KILL YOU.
Obviously, I didn’t kill the guy myself. After letting out a shrill scream, I backed up slowly, froze for 5 minutes and then threw my house keys against the front door. There was no response, so I called for back-up.
Another 5 minutes passed before C came out of the apartment armed with the almighty poison spray, which he used to blow the roach off the wall, onto the floor and finally onto its back, where it struggled for a good 30 seconds before his hairy brown legs eventually stopped kicking around at odd angles and folded slowly into their final resting place.
Apparently, I had been screaming all the way through because one very annoyed neighbour poked his head out with a WTF!? expression. I explained that there was a giant cockroach, but his facial expression remained the same.
Staring back at the cockroach corpse, I wondered… Why did we just kill a seemingly innocent creature? Is it just because he looks so damn frightening and ugly? It’s not really his fault he looks that way, is it? I know we don’t want roaches inside our apartment, but did we really have to kill it so brutally? Do all cockroaches deserve to die?? If so, why?? Why can’t we all just get along??
Still, I’m kinda glad it’s dead.