Last night I went to bed early in order to get up early the next day. I woke at 6:00am to find the following note from Elizabeth on our bathroom door:
I’d like to break this down line-by-line:
I sprayed the roach.
Best part of this is use of the word “the.” Makes it sound like we have a pet roach she’s murdering for some reason. No, a few nights earlier I had noticed a roach in the bathroom that I’d been unable to kill. It wasn’t just “a” roach. He was…special.
He started flapping his wings and going nuts. I got too scared and ran away.
In fairness to her, I would have reacted the exact same way. Whatever this roach did seems like the roach version of those people at weird religious retreats who speak in tongues once they’ve been filled with the holy ghost.
Hopefully he is dead in the tub.
The word “hopefully” here is my favorite part of this sign. “Who knows if he made it out of that? You probably will, in a second, when you open this door.”
What would’ve happened if he were still alive? Not only alive, but pissed off? I open the door to find a tough-looking roach with a crowbar in his hand. “We need to talk. I’d never hit a lady, but someone’s going to have to pay for what your girlfriend did.” I gulp. After a few minutes I just re-enter the bedroom with a black eye.
“Mike…what happened to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. By the way we pay rent to The Roach now.”
(last seen on the shower rod)
I like how she’s talking about him like a cop talking about a missing suspect. “Last known whereabouts: the shower rod. May head for the toilet as they tend to congregate near water. Less than an inch tall, weight unknown as we couldn’t get a roach to stand still on a scale. Known accomplices include….pretty much any other roach, I guess.”
BEWARE! Scary roach!
This makes it sound like an advertisement for the world’s lamest haunted house. “Come in but beware…our house of horrors features…..A SINGLE ROOOOOACH! Isn’t that SPOOOOOOKY! Is it alive? Is it dead? Is it in that weird, half-alive, half-dead twitching phase bugs get in after you step on them? Who knows?!?! Certainly not your girlfriend, who sprayed it then left the tough part for youuuuuuuuu!”
To put a bow on this story: the roach was dead when I walked in there. RIP, brother. You fought valiently and bravely. Definitely braver than any of the humans in the apartment.
Sign up for my email list…unless you’re a roach. In which case sorry about this blog and how did you learn to use a computer? You’re a miracle.