Israel

The Beast

It was there, staring at me. It was waiting there, at 10:30 pm, in the middle of my quiet, sleeping, beautiful clean kitchen, next to the foot of the chair by the large bay window. The Beast.

A cockroach.

IN MY HOUSE!

I haven’t had one in my place of living for as long as I can remember (because I hate them so much) and the fact this apartment is absolutely pristine, free from bugs was one of my main reason for moving. For crying out loud, we don’t even have flies or ants! You know when fruit gets old, those tiny flies appear and start flying around them? We don’t have those, we don’t even have the little bugs that take up siege in tea bags and rice and pasta boxes that no one can get rid of in Haifa. I am not making this up, our flat is exceptional.

But it was there. And I hate those things. I hate them. That is the one question I am asking God (at this point of my spiritual immaturity anyway) when I die: what was the purpose of cockroaches? Except to be a personal test to me? I hate them so much it’s hard for me to write this but I am suffering in silence and I just want to get it out of my system.

I can’t describe the shock I had.

I was in utter disbelief.

But I actually started TALKING TO IT.

“So you’re here….I don’t know you you got in but you’re going to die….how am I going to kill you though if I don’t have those nuclear-strength chemicals…crap crap crap crap I hate you, you know. crap. crap. how am I going to get close to you, you’re so damn repulsive. look at you not moving, those repulsive little antlers tilting around. crap. yuck. all right…let me think. i need long implements. appendages. think…” So I got a broom and started moving closer, the entire time my face twisted up in this expression of disgust and exhaling short little disgusted painful breaths, wishpering “ew, ew, ew..” under each one. so as I moved closer the offensive beast ran under the little table where the microwave sits, next to a WHOLE bag of hundreds of crumpled plastic bags, and a box full of smaller boxes. Great. Crevasses for it to hide. perfect. So I climbed on the chair, and grabbed the long squeegy that was resting between the table and the window, and armed with the broom in one hand, the squeegy in the other, and standing on a chair by a huge bay window, I started moving the bag of bags and box of boxes around as if I was holding two giant chopsticks.

I am 26 years old.

Now the whole time I’m doing this, I am, mind you moaning “ew, ew, ew” under each breath and my face is crinkled in disgust. Finally, I pull out the boxes and flip them over, and in a sudden burst of life, the creature jumps up long enough to brieful unfold its papery brown wings and lands on the clean shiny beautiful kitchen floor and darts against the wall, now holding on to dear life, but seeing the end coming towards it mercilessly. I still have my broom and my squeegy in hand and I’m trying to crush it against the wall with the broom, which duh, is not working, and it’s escaping, finally it gets OUT OF THE KITCHEN and as it’s crossing the threshold into the living room, I raised the squeegy above it and let it drop onto the nasty beast, effectively cutting it in half, guillotine style. Gross.

I know it’s not a big deal but I don’t care. It’s my phobia. I thought watching Joe’s appartment would help. It didn’t. (guy lives with so many roaches he trains them to sing and crap) I know they love the smell of their own feces (I saw a documentary about them once, too) and really, when you come down to it, cockroaches are the exact opposite of all that is beautiful and beloved in my life. They are not majestic or graceful, they are not soft, they aren’t personable, gentle, in fact I really think their only purpose is to stand as a proof that life can be magical. Something has to be the opposite of a rose. I think that’s their lot in life. To be the antithesis of a rose. And please don’t give me that business about them embodying the essence of resilience because if a nuclear holocaust happens, they’re the only creature that will survive. I don’t buy that. Besides, I think if we’re going to have nuclear weapons around, we should at least have nuclear weapons that wipe out cockroaches. That isn’t too much to ask.

5 thoughts on “The Beast

  1. Cockroach? No problem. A younger (grosser) me used to pick dead ones up by the antennae and wave them around in front of people like Vi… Ew ew ew. The first and only time i got sent to the principal’s office in primary school was for putting a dead cockroach in Suzi’s desk. The disruption it caused, in my opinion, was unbefitting, but then I don’t have a cockroach-phobia.

    Slugs, however…… EW!

  2. Word!
    I heard on NPR that Cockroaches are extremely sensitive and can detect (maybe from air movements?) which way you or your instrument of death are approaching from – that’s how they can always scatter and evade.

    I got the heebe-jeebes just reading that post…ick.

  3. Word!
    I heard on NPR that Cockroaches are extremely sensitive and can detect (maybe from air movements?) which way you or your instrument of death are approaching from – that’s how they can always scatter and evade.

    I got the heebe-jeebes just reading that post…ick.

  4. Word!
    I heard on NPR that Cockroaches are extremely sensitive and can detect (maybe from air movements?) which way you or your instrument of death are approaching from – that’s how they can always scatter and evade.

    I got the heebe-jeebes just reading that post…ick.

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