Friday, August 26, 2005

me vs. the cockroach

i was coming from the kitchen with a fresh glass of pinot, heading for the couch and the remote control, when i saw it on the upper left hand corner of the bedrooms open doors.

it looked to be about four or five inches long and had huge, spastic wings. its antennas swung heavily from its huge, curious head. it lumbered along the edge of the door frame. it jerked and slipped then caught itself and i gasped like a tween girl. it was easily the biggest fucking cockroach i had ever seen in my life.


i stumbled back absolutely strangled with horror but i held my wine steady remembering our priorities. -well, this is it, i thought, -my worst fear is going to come true, and that monstrous... disease of a creature is going to leap across the room and begin eating me alive. well, at least i didnt break the last wine glass in that little stumble back there. at least i wont die being remembered as THAT asshole. i braced myself for the attack [which essentially translates to: i clenched my butt cheeks and whimpered].

and in comes L-bonita to save the day, Time Out mag in hand, rolled up execution style. i leave the room while she goes to work on the roach, too squeamish to witness the carnage surely to ensue. shes got a handle on some big ass roaches though, from what she tells me about growing up in Hawaii, the roaches there are like the size of hot wheel cars and they just kind of mill around and smoke weed and shit. she could be fucking with me about that last bit, but the way she got at that roach on our door im leaning towards trusting her on it.

that motherfucker wasnt gonna get thwacked once and keel over though. hell nah son, this is brooklyn! the roaches aint punks in this spot. they gangsta, you get it? they'll run your wallet you dont watcha back. im serious chump dont smile. my cousin got merked by some roaches in Greenpoint, kids in a wheelchair now, only 17 years old, its a damn shame.

i hear slaps and stomping. i wince at every curse word and groan at every bang. suddenly its quiet and for a second i thought i had lost her to the roach, and that now not only did i have no girlfriend, but a flesh hungry cockroach was in the next room. just as i was about to run to the kitchen and grab a knife and another glass of wine the L-inator comes back into the room, where i am and the monster isnt.

-it crawled into the closet, she said. i hit it ten times she said. ten times. it wouldn't die she said. it wouldn't stop trying to run away and she kept hitting it and she thinks she even stomped it once but it didn't die and finally it crawled into the closet. it crawled. and now its behind our clothes and shoes and boxes and shoes and sweaters and boots and its in our boots and its hatching a million more in our boots.

told you. gangsta.

ive had roaches as a kid. growing up in a top floor flat on oak street in the fillmore. and in a hotel room on o'farrell in the tenderloin. and in another flat on pine and in another one on ellis. roaches were everywhere in san francisco, but they were small and manageable. they would die if you sprayed them with raid and were only a really small squish on the bottom of your shoe.

but the roaches here? they dine on the roaches in san francisco. they use them as ammunition when they're hunting bigger game. it would take like, fifteen san francisco roaches to even fill the belly of a brooklyn roach. they are that much bigger. these are the kind of roaches that you dont call the exterminator to take care of, you call the fuckin police. im just sayin...

i got a big ass cockroach in my closet and its freaking me the fuck out.


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:gray matters: by jkg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at