I just got back from a brawl. I had declared war against a gang of roaches that I had found lurking in the trash bin under my sink. (I swear I have no idea where these pests are coming from—I had looked everywhere for any possible entry way that these bunch of creepy crawlers are using to come inside my lovely new apartment.)
I've killed a bunch of them since I moved in but still they come and go as they please. So once again I was armed with my ever-reliable can of Black Flag Flying Insect Killer (I assure you this is not an advertisement), I sprayed them all without mercy catching some of them square in the face. If there's one thing I hate most of all in this world, that would be cockroaches.
My sister and I, back in the day, used to scream our lungs out whenever one would fly about. We'd quickly dash in our room and cover ourselves with blankets and cower away until the coast is clear or until our bully of a brother stop threatening us with it. He would pick one up by its antenna and dangle it for us to see; more often than not he would feign throwing it on our hair much to our horror.
My sister and I, back in the day, used to scream our lungs out whenever one would fly about. We'd quickly dash in our room and cover ourselves with blankets and cower away until the coast is clear or until our bully of a brother stop threatening us with it. He would pick one up by its antenna and dangle it for us to see; more often than not he would feign throwing it on our hair much to our horror.
Well, I had changed a lot since then, I decided to no longer flee in terror and I certainly refuse to be afraid anymore of this dirty little insect that had sometimes terrorized me in my childhood. I am now a cockroach slayer (evil bitchy laugh). But no slippers or broom slapping mind you! Oh no! The thought of the thing being flattened out with its insides oozing out with all its invisible-to-the-naked-eye-gazillion-germs is way too much for my peace of mind. In any case, the cleaning after part is always harder as well and so I chose--and had since then embraced--bug's spray as a more convenient approach of ridding my house of it.
Well, I think I may have killed three of them already when I happened to look up and there at the wall at the edge of the ceiling were two of them coupling, with their redder than ever rear ends attached gleefully at each other. I pulled a chair slowly near the wall and carefully positioned myself directly at them (I shouldn't have bothered they were too busy to take notice), aimed the can and sprayed. Gotcha! They were stunned and didn't move at first. In that split second, I could just imagine what might be going on in their little roach brains as their carnal joy was cut short by this pestering human who couldn't just let them be. Alas, who said that they should be out and about doing that in broad fluorescent light? Soon they were wiggling, still together for a while, clearly in a state of shock of what had just transpired but soon the poison was too much to bear and they parted ways running to die separately, each on their own.
I of course, heartless when it comes to these creatures, ran after them making sure that both their ends were complete. Like any pest controllers and embattled homeowners know only too well, cockroaches are supposedly handy enough to survive anything — even a nuclear war. Some even goes about saying that the roaches will inherit the earth. Well, not today.
Happy Weekend folks!
Trivia: Scientists are exploiting the roaches weakness which is their rampant sex drive to help consign these insects to oblivion. After a quest of more than a decade, they have discovered how to create an artificial version of the sexual pheromone produced by willing female German cockroaches - a scent so irresistible that even males close to death by starvation will pass up a lump of meat when they catch a whiff.
