That little critter

The story of a roach that was. . .

We have repeatedly celebrated the fact that we haven’t spotted any roaches in our apartment. For a culture that values extreme cleanliness the Japanese are awfully tolerant of their roach population, so we were surprised not to see any until. . .

Late the other night I turned on the light while passing through our kitchen. He was rather large for a little guy, and he had trouble finding a good hiding spot in time. I would like to think that I am craftier than the average insect, so I made my plan carefully. First I chose my weapon; a shrimp fork would serve well as my trident. I pulled it from the drawer very slowly so as not to alert my foe as to my intention to drive the barbs clear through his shiny brown armor. With every bit of patience and stealth I could muster I closed in until my implement was within two inches of my prey. Then THRUST! He realized at the last moment that his cover had been blown, but it was too late for MR Creepy. For a moment I held up his still twitching little body on the end of the shrimp fork and admired my handy-work. I tossed his creamy carcass out onto the pavement where I could be sure that it would be baked into dehydration, stepped on and run over until his remains were completely reintegrated into the cosmos at large. In the apartment I initiated a second attack incorporating biological warfare with what I assume to be flower-scented antibacterial soap. Bye bye baby!

Now, anyone who has dealt with roaches before would be quick to tell me that where there is one there are surely more. However, anyone who knows me well will remember that I often prefer to live in a dreamland where I can interrupt the endless chain of cause and effect to actually solve problems. In this way I have destroyed our roach population, and Japan has one less little critter.

I haven’t told Beth yet because she has a special combination of fear and disgust that she reserves only for roaches. I think it will be better if she finds out by means of direct experience. This way the entire magnitude of the crisis will be confronted at once rather than in stages. So please don’t mention it if you write to her.