Ahhh! We see a big, fatty cockroach on our wall. We’re screaming as we watch it creep into the closet, yelling at each other to kill it.
He’s in the closet. We panic. We scream. We don’t know what to do. Stacy gets the broom. I stand and watch.
We (Stacy mostly) hesitantly look in the closet, hitting clothes, moving things around, trying to see we’re Mr. Cockroach went. Hayley (another roommate) comes in, screams, hence we scream louder, Stacy with the usual man scream. But Hayley didn’t see him, she just screamed to scare us more. She laughs maniacally. Not funny. This cockroach stuff is a serious business.
Stacy moves the laundry basket. Where is the little devil? Ahh! There he is! Ahhh! We’re all on the beds, screaming, not doing anything, just yelling at each other to kill it. Stacy grabs one of her books to throw at him, then because she likes her books so, she grabs one of mine instead. My book is chucked it in the general direction of the cockroach, but misses. So she grabs another one of my books, misses again.
The cockroach scurries deeper into the closet.
We try and collect ourselves. We get off of the beds, and Stacy goes back to her closet position. I get closer too, but she has the broom. She’s doing most of the work.
She pulls a suitcase out. There he is, on the other suitcase. We see him. We scream. We stare at him. He doesn’t do much. Stacy readies the broom. I grab the clorox spray and dustpan.
She karate chops the broom down. Screams. She’s holding the broom there, fear of pulling it away. What if he’s not dead? She pulls the broom away. Ahhh! He’s far from dead, maybe has an injured leg or two. But he still runs behind the suitcase to the back of the closet. I’m on top of it with the clorox spray bleaching anything I can. Stacy yells not to spray her suitcase, but I’m in the zone. I’m spraying anything. I spray the cockroach and he twitches a bit, but still is creeping around the closet floor at top speed.
Stacy brings in the broom again. Whack! Whack! Stacy goes to town with the broom. I try to continue and spray him as she’s continuously strikes. Whack! Whack! She doesn’t stop.
Finally she takes a break with the broom. I start again with the clorox. He’s on his back. He has stopped running around. But his legs are still going. And then the broom and my sister start going again. Whack! Whack! Whack! I think she likes this.
After many vicious acts on our part, the cockroach is dead. We (Stacy mostly) are victorious. She sweeps him into the dustpan I’m holding, and he’s inches away from my flesh. I start sweating again. So we carry it over to the toilet. Flush… and he’s gone. Relief.
We walk back into out bedroom, see it in shambles, and laugh laugh laugh. Hahaha! We are quite disheveled from the cockroach destroying, somewhat sweaty, and our closet is in complete disarray. But we’re happy now, and so are you!
I’m thankful we’re not sleeping with him tonight.