In Which the Heroine and Her Sidekick Manage to Battle Graduate School,the Workforce, and the Forces of Evil, but, alas, are Stopped by a Roach

My best friend is here to visit for a few days and, overall, we've had a great time. As we are superheroes, sometimes we are forced to conquer the forces of evil so the world is safer for you all. Over the years, we've managed to come up against graduate school and all the bullspit that involves and various other foes like bad driving, cheap wine and the occasional poorly written novel. Last night, however, we came up against our most vicious, sinister and evil nemesis yet: the elusive cockroach.

Now, in general, I would say that my apartment does NOT have roaches. Well, at least that is what I hope. Since I moved to this heat-induced desert where nothing pretty like butterflies, songbirds, or squirrels manage to survive but black soot pigeons, massive poisonous spiders, feral cats and roaches are abundant, I have not exactly seen a roach in my apartment. I've seen the monstrous dark brown multi-legged creatures scurry by in the evening when the sunsets outside the front door, however I always assumed my super strong pine-wood, one-lock front door that doubles as an invisible forcefield for my enemies would keep the creatures out.

Evidently I was wrong.

Last night we went to run some errands and my friend left a pair of pants on the floor in the bathroom. When we returned, she went back to the bathroom so we could put the pants in the washer. When my friend turned on the light, she calmly said: "Oh my God, there is a massive bug on my pants." Curiously, I went into the bathroom to investigate. Sitting calmly on top of one of the folds of her pants was something fat, brown, shiny and with tentacles. Not sure, as the roaches I saw in Bursley and Markley were tiny, puny creatures which could be demolished with the quick stomp of a Nine West, patent-leather, black three-inch heel, this thing was beyond stomping size. It was beyond stomping size, squishing size, and Febreeze spraying size.

I'm not going to lie. I squealed. And then I said "I'm not killing that thing."

So my best friend and I stood there, dumfounded, and literally stared at King Shiny. He smirked at us. Then my BFF and I started to argue. Evidently, she thought that because I was the host, I was responsible for her health, well-being and safety, and therefore should bear the burden of getting rid It. I disagreed. While I do assume responsibility for her overall heath, wel-being and safety as my guest, my territory stops wherever her crotch starts: her pants.

That argument got us nowhere.

While we were looking at each other, King Shiney managed to scurry It's black greasy ass deeper into the folds of her pants. When we looked back, it was gone.

We then decided to scoop up the pants and put them into a large bag, then dump the bag into the washing machine full of bubbly, poisonous washing powder. After getting the pants into the bag--which took some quick manuvering on our part--I realized a flaw in the plan. Just yesterday, I remembered, I was scooping loose change out of the bottom of the machine; the quarters, nickels and pennies are too large to be sucked down the drain. If change gets stuck in the bottom of the machine, I am sure that King Shiney would leave his creepy black carcass for me as well. So, while holding a garbage bag with the pants and the roach, I decided on another plan of attack.

I deftly marched out to the balcony, held the bag and the pants upside down, and shook vigorously while shouting: Die! Die! Die, you Bastard, Die!

I think that did it.

I requested bug spray this morning.

*M*

PS--I THINK it was a roach...not quite sure, but anything else that large would be more frightening than a roach. So, I'll stick with roach.