I'm normally pretty passive about things. Not a lot bothers me, and even when it does it still doesn't irk me to my core. I get upset at important things like the Pistons losing, or MSU Basketball or Football - but that's about it.
I live in what can only be described as a neighborhood that is 'hoody'. It's not ghetto and it's not dangerous (or at least I've never felt in danger) but my car has had 2 attempted break-ins, they sell drugs on my corner and people smoke weed/drink 40s on my stoop. These things all build character though. If it were dangerous that would be a different story, a much sadder one that ends with me being cut or stabbed, but it's not so these are just my friendly neighbors. As for my apartment itself, it's a box. I live in a 10 x 10 room with no closet and no bed (I have a fold out Ikea abomination that was not intended for anymore than a weekend visit bed) and there's no breeze the can come through so it's constantly hot and humid.
All of these things are fine and I can live with the constant nuisances. This being New York, and the hood, there are also occasional cockroaches. Not movie sized by any means and in fact are usually no bigger than the nail on my pinky. Seeing one of these tiny bugs once or twice a month is no big deal and it surprises me that there aren't larger ones in a higher quantity. All of this was fine until last night. I was laying on my pathetic couch-bed watching the West Wing before I went to bed as is my usual routine when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. A cockroach - the biggest one I had seen in my apartment (not 'big' but still larger than the nail on my pinky, ran down my curtain. With my room being 10x10 and my bed being in the middle of the room, it was only a couple of feet away from me.
Normally when I see an insect, depending on what it is, I'll either move it or leave it alone - I don't like to kill things and bugs are no exception. But this f*cking cockroach tiggered all my "I hate NYC" rage and I just lost it. This was my reaction: "WTF!! You have to be kidding me?! In my room!!?? You f*cking piece of sh*t cockroach, I'm gonna kill you and your family and every single one of you f*ckers I ever see again for the rest of my life!!" I'm not quite sure why I reacted this way, I guess it was the last straw. But I was yelling at this cockroach like we were stranded on an island and he ate the last coconut while I was asleep.
The cockroach had stopped and was sitting there between a fold in the curtain waiting for me to make the next move. I didn't want to react to quickly because if I missed and he got away, I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that devious little sh*t was running around my room. So I grabbed a shoe and took a strong but measured swing at the fold. I didn't see him fall and carefully opened the curtain expecting to see his shattered body smashed in the fold. It wasn't. So after running into the living room like a girl and cursing his name a little more, I bravely ventured back into my room only to see him lying on his back, twitching and waiting to be finished. I got him on a piece of paper and grabbed a lighter and took him into the bathroom fully intent on lighting him on fire and taking a picture to post around my apartment so his friends would know what was coming, but by the time I got there he had regained consciousness and was now able to stand and I didn't have the heart to burn him alive so I just flushed him and eventually fell asleep. I guess the moral of the story is take as much shit as you can but if you see a cockroach, kill that motherf*cker dead.
I'm out
-M, p, z & shredder
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