Friday, August 13, 2010

I Still Itch

After moving in together, my brother and I were confronted by the fact that we now owned two of everything. Which things to keep and which to put into our patio storage area was a fairly simple to question to answer. With regards to trash cans, we kept his and put mine out on the patio, seeing as how it was covered in Shakespeare pee.
However, we soon found that Ray's old trash can was too narrow for all of our garbage needs and opted to switch the two out. A couple of nights before, Ray and a friend sat out on our patio balcony drinking beer and eating the entire can of my chocolate covered pecans (that last detail wasn't necessary but I'm still bitter about it) and used the outside trash can to dispose of the empty bottles.
I discovered this fact as I wiped off crystallized Shakespeare urine from the sides of the can. I then proceeded to drag it into the house and attempt to tip the trash can over and dump all of the beer bottles into a garbage bag on the floor.
I miserably failed and as I picked bottles off the floor, I saw a bug scurry under the oven.
"Raymin; I let a bug into the house!"
"What kind of bug?" my brother asked walking into the kitchen.
"Just a bug. I didn't get a really good look at it but it wasn't a spider."

& honestly, I didn't get a good look at it. I saw it was shiny, black, oblong.
Later, as I got ready to shower, I saw something scuttle across the white tile. It, apparently, sensed me too because it took off and ran into my bedroom. I saw it go under my bed.
In the light of my bedroom, what I once thought was black was now visibly just dark brown. Reddish brown as a matter of fact. I got closer; a cockroach.
My skin crawled. I let a cockroach into the apartment and it was in my room. Hiding under my bed.

Fortunately, I was able to catch and squash it.

However, even after disposing of the flattened remains, I couldn't help but feel like if I looked under my comforter, my mattress would be covered in cockroaches.

Or worse, the irrational got the best of me and I imagined this was hiding in my closet

That's the monster from the 1997 film, Mimic.

All this time later, after searching and coming up empty, I'm fairly certain there are no other cockroaches in the apartment. But everytime I think about it, I itch.

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