So it’s late at night and I'm drinking, heavily. I'm not going to argue that point. I am sitting, while watching the late, oh so late news (possibly from tomorrow). It has been really dry here as in no rain whatsoever. I have noticed the occasional roach coming inside, looking for water. Today it rains hardcore. Thank God for this respite in the heat.
So I am watching the news and notice a little movement, just out of the corner of my eye. It is a gigantic roach, of biblical proportions climbing up the wall. I am sitting there wondering where it came from and what has it been eating to make it so big. I swear I am not stretching this story in the fact that this is the Shaquille Oneal of tree roaches. It is so big.
I watch with fascination as it slowly goes up the wall, towards the ceiling as if that is the place to be. I am ready to strike. I take off my flip flop and start planning how I am going to take this sucker down. The real problem is that it keeps moving up the wall. I have vaulted ceilings and realize I cant reach it unless I throw my flip flop which will cause my wife to wake (never a good thing when I wake her). I watch as it climbs directly over me, and the fan that is the centerpiece of our den. I have visions of bringing in the ladder and jumping up and smacking it with my flip flop. Much like Michael Jordan. Not a great idea. I will wait to see its next move.
It hovers, taunting me, for what seems like a lifetime. It's right above the fan. I have visions of it falling in the fan and being chopped to pieces and bathing me in its slaughtered glory. Okay it's not a blender, but an ordinary fan. Sounds cool though doesn’t it? I stare at it, waiting for battle. I remove my other flip flop in the case that this may be a two handed battle.
The roach falls. It hits the fan and rockets straight into my forehead. Had it hit my my forehead and bounced off, I would have crushed it into the hardwoods. It hit my forehead and ran down my body and then I ran screaming out the front door. Okay...screw you.
A roach in the forehead sent me screaming into the front yard. You are so judging me but you just don't understand the horror.
I collect myself on the front porch and work on a plan. I need a plan as quickly as possible. Damn it man, my family is in there. I have to save them. Years of sales training come in to play. A quote from Sun Tzu makes perfect sense "Attack your enemy when they are most comfortable". I got a plan and I'm unafraid to implement it.
Roaches run from the light...right? I have both flip flops in hand as I gingerly step into the house. I start turning off lights as I go. Darkness...this is where I will find my enemy. I make it into the den and turn everything off. Okay, I kind of panic because I cant see anything and I am mildly liquored up. It's okay because I am ready to do battle. I am the bait. Come on super huge roach. I am ready.
I sink to the floor, much like a serpent ready to strike, flip flop in each hand. I am crawling, ready to get this mother on (I mean like ON). Nothing is happening. It is super quiet. I lean my head to the hardwoods and listen for a noise. I cant hear anything and I cant see anything. This roach is going to kick my ass. Okay, this was a bad idea. I reach into my pocket and find my lighter and click it. FIRE. Now, and only now, are we ready to do battle. I hear clicking on the hardwoods...it seems so far away but close enough to cause damage and I hunker down. My black labrador walks up and licks me on the forehead and I scream bloody murder. How dare you sneak up on me. You probably scared my enemy away.
I stand up because this is so silly and a little absurd. I check my daughters for good measure and they appear to be fine. I walk slowly towards the bedroom, casually throwing glances over my shoulder (I know this bastard is following me). I decide not to take out my contacts. I have to see too fight, right? Don’t be silly, of course I do. I'm leaving on my shorts because they are cargo shorts and make me feel just a little bit tougher. Something about the side pockets seem like tools for destruction. I could store all kinds of stuff in them (what I don’t know). Whatever, you are judging me. I have my lighter. I know this gigantic son of a bitch is going to attack me while I am in bed (attack when they are most comfortable, I hate you Sun Tzu).
So I am watching the news and notice a little movement, just out of the corner of my eye. It is a gigantic roach, of biblical proportions climbing up the wall. I am sitting there wondering where it came from and what has it been eating to make it so big. I swear I am not stretching this story in the fact that this is the Shaquille Oneal of tree roaches. It is so big.
I watch with fascination as it slowly goes up the wall, towards the ceiling as if that is the place to be. I am ready to strike. I take off my flip flop and start planning how I am going to take this sucker down. The real problem is that it keeps moving up the wall. I have vaulted ceilings and realize I cant reach it unless I throw my flip flop which will cause my wife to wake (never a good thing when I wake her). I watch as it climbs directly over me, and the fan that is the centerpiece of our den. I have visions of bringing in the ladder and jumping up and smacking it with my flip flop. Much like Michael Jordan. Not a great idea. I will wait to see its next move.
It hovers, taunting me, for what seems like a lifetime. It's right above the fan. I have visions of it falling in the fan and being chopped to pieces and bathing me in its slaughtered glory. Okay it's not a blender, but an ordinary fan. Sounds cool though doesn’t it? I stare at it, waiting for battle. I remove my other flip flop in the case that this may be a two handed battle.
The roach falls. It hits the fan and rockets straight into my forehead. Had it hit my my forehead and bounced off, I would have crushed it into the hardwoods. It hit my forehead and ran down my body and then I ran screaming out the front door. Okay...screw you.
A roach in the forehead sent me screaming into the front yard. You are so judging me but you just don't understand the horror.
I collect myself on the front porch and work on a plan. I need a plan as quickly as possible. Damn it man, my family is in there. I have to save them. Years of sales training come in to play. A quote from Sun Tzu makes perfect sense "Attack your enemy when they are most comfortable". I got a plan and I'm unafraid to implement it.
Roaches run from the light...right? I have both flip flops in hand as I gingerly step into the house. I start turning off lights as I go. Darkness...this is where I will find my enemy. I make it into the den and turn everything off. Okay, I kind of panic because I cant see anything and I am mildly liquored up. It's okay because I am ready to do battle. I am the bait. Come on super huge roach. I am ready.
I sink to the floor, much like a serpent ready to strike, flip flop in each hand. I am crawling, ready to get this mother on (I mean like ON). Nothing is happening. It is super quiet. I lean my head to the hardwoods and listen for a noise. I cant hear anything and I cant see anything. This roach is going to kick my ass. Okay, this was a bad idea. I reach into my pocket and find my lighter and click it. FIRE. Now, and only now, are we ready to do battle. I hear clicking on the hardwoods...it seems so far away but close enough to cause damage and I hunker down. My black labrador walks up and licks me on the forehead and I scream bloody murder. How dare you sneak up on me. You probably scared my enemy away.
I stand up because this is so silly and a little absurd. I check my daughters for good measure and they appear to be fine. I walk slowly towards the bedroom, casually throwing glances over my shoulder (I know this bastard is following me). I decide not to take out my contacts. I have to see too fight, right? Don’t be silly, of course I do. I'm leaving on my shorts because they are cargo shorts and make me feel just a little bit tougher. Something about the side pockets seem like tools for destruction. I could store all kinds of stuff in them (what I don’t know). Whatever, you are judging me. I have my lighter. I know this gigantic son of a bitch is going to attack me while I am in bed (attack when they are most comfortable, I hate you Sun Tzu).
I slowly reach in my pocket and pull out my lighter as I lay in bed. I have to test it just once more because I have to have the light. I flick it and it powers up much like the sun. It gives me reassurance and power. Immediately my wife rolls over and asks "What the hell are you doing?" My answer...umm...nothing honey...go back to sleep. I am shivering. I know you are out there you nasty bastard. I look for my flip flops and can’t see them. I light the lighter one more time and my wife turns with a look that can only be described as frightening. She looks mildly scary in the light from my torch (lighter but I prefer torch). "Seriously?" She doesn’t realize the fight I have stepped in to. I know you are out there you freaking nasty bastard. You touched me once, oh my god please don’t touch me while I am asleep. I can't sleep. I feel like Santa Anna’s Army at San Jacinto. Close your eyes for a siesta, get your ass kicked. It’s coming for me. It’s my ass. I am the bait. Come here...I want you to come here.
Wide awake...shivering.
Matt Greer
You had me at the title, and I kept laughing as I read the piece. Thanks for the nightmare that I'm sure to have tonight. Nice! Good to see you're lurking on my timeline. See you there.
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