THE NIGHT THE COCKROACH ATTACKED...

Denise, I now know what you mean. I returned home last night after a hard days work and fell prey to one of the most insidious, calculating flying beasts imaginable. Ladies and gentlemen, I fell victim to the North American Cockroach. Never in my life have I felt such horror with the thought of having such a huge insect flapping about as if it paid the fucking rent and financially supported me:

It was an ordinary evening. I dropped my computer bag onto my couch and like I do every time I return home, I flipped on the light switch. As I carried on with my usual routine of getting on all fours and doing 3 sets of 20 push-ups (what did you think I was going to say?), I heard a light but certain SMACK near my window as if a bird suddenly lost its sight and crashed against the wall. I looked up to see what that odd noise was... and there before my horrified eyes was the single-most largest Cockroach I've ever seen. The noise I heard was the noise a 4-inch cockroach makes when it flies from one end of a room to the opposite wall and lands.

In my younger years I had a psychotic addiction to nature shows and had a particular interest in the shows that specialized in insects. I'm no stranger to watching a multivariate of insects dance about from the safety of my television screen. I've seen the worlds most exotically grotesque and vomit-inducing roaches with trepidation and intrigue, but I never covered my eyes and ran for the hills in fear. I'm a veteran when it comes to learning the science behind what makes these fascinatingly cringe-worthy insects tick, let alone the ins and outs of their breeding process to boot. In this instance though, no nature show and all the educational value I have accumulated throughout the years could have prepared me for the ambush that was about to unfold.

After I made full eye-to-eye contact with the brownish-amber, nuclear war-immune vermin of shiny death, I went into commando mode. First I took a deep breath (with caution as I didn't want to up my chances of it flying into my mouth) and began to seek the appropriate weapon that would allow me to kill it in a safe and comfortable distance... coupled with the least amount of SPLAT. A roll of Bounty was at the top of my list as it gave me proper leverage and would fully absorb the inevitable squirting that will unleash when I lay out my can of ass-whoopin'. I zeroed in on the small bat and thought of the many possible directions it might soar towards and prepared myself for the worst. Its antennae swirling in opposite circles as if it were scanning the area, and its rear-end wiggling as if it were going to give birth to a pod filled with baby demons, I found the perfect opportunity and struck it with the strength of a Greek God.

Instinctively, I jumped back and followed the roach as it dropped to the ground and onto its back. It just stood there... no movement whatsoever as if it passed on and gone to roach heaven. But with the power of 3 voodoo priestesses, it flipped over, faced my direction and flew towards me with all its might and swift velocity. I swung the roll of Bounty in my defense like a teen cheerleader swinging her baton. I managed to whack it mid-flight and it landed on the ground with a savory thump and just stood there again, staring at me. As a chimpanzee and a rat might learn from their mistakes at your local lab, I too learned that if I didn't do something really quick it would head straight for my nostrils with the sole intention of tearing up my brain. I approached the roach and it immediately took an about-face and tried to escape toward the kitchen... but I slammed it with my trusty Bounty roll until it became part of my linoleum. Because I didn't take my assumption of its death for granted, I waited to see if there was a glimmer of movement, or maybe even the chance of a little red eye lighting up as if it were the Terminator. This time though, it was truly dead.

Because of this terribly traumatizing incident, I've made peace with cowardice as I now fully respect my sister Maio and my hag Denise for reacting the way they do when they come upon a roach or an insect of microscopic proportions in which my naked eye simply cannot see. No matter what the size of the insect, I have a new-found respect for their domain (even though it was my fucking house) and their right to life (far away from me please). Suffice it to say, I will never be the same.

Editor's note: My house is spotless and this has been the only time I have come across a roach. It gets very humid in New York City during the summer and they can make their appearance in the cleanest of abodes. God help me.