Small Things Can Be Big Things

There's a dead cockroach under my desk right now. Two years in this house and only once have I encountered a roach. It's small and thin and barely even noticeable, not like one of those massive cat-eating ones that you find in the trash can, but it's still a member of the roach family. It has six legs and is red and is probably laden with all sorts of diseases. If I die sometime next week, you know why; I got the Bubonic Plague from little roachy roach. Or the bird flu. Or the west nile virus. Or shingles.

I'm considering picking it up but can't bring myself to do so. It's almost like asking me to bathe in dirty water or watch a Martin Lawrence movie in one sitting. The thought makes me cling to the drapes, stand on chairs, squeal like the little twelve year old schoolgirl that I really am deep down inside. I have such a fear of roaches that I find myself choking on my own tongue every time I see one, and this situation is no different despite this roach's small size. Dead munchkin roach or not, it still is completely capable of crawling up my leg.

I have never fully recovered from Mr. Shirey's fourth grade class when I was attacked and sexually assaulted by that cockroach. There I am sitting in the middle of class, daydreaming about Ryan from Kids Incorporated, and here comes a roach. For some reason, it decided to crawl up my leg and into my stonewashed, tapered button-fly pants by Levi's. My blood pressure went sky high, my Hypercolor (TM) shirt changed colors, and I nearly lost all of my jelly bracelets as I flailed around the classroom. Humiliating. Absolutely humiliating. If I ever made the mistake of going back to my high school reunion, I'm sure someone will remind me of the time I started Moonwalking to the bathroom in 4th grade as that roach explored my butt crack and scrotum.
That roach from 4th grade was much bigger than this one, much much bigger. The size of a silver dollar, maybe bigger.

Oh, God. That roach is still alive. It's little antennae are still barely moving. At any moment it could have a quick breath of life and come back from the dead to wreck havoc, just like in a horror movie. Eww. I would crush him immediately but I'm barefoot, and I don't want to get the smallpox or ebola he's carrying all over my toes. If I get up and go in the other room I'll probably hate myself for being such a pansy, but if I stomp it I will surely act like the pansy I hate in myself. I won't for a minute have delusions of adequacy and convince myself I can remain calm and rational when that horrible insect crunches between my toes, so I'm leaving it there to die for now. I'm going to watch it die from afar, laughing as it gasps it last breaths before plaguing my life no more.

Oh, God, what if it is going to have babies? Little roaches crawling all over the house, invading my personal space and seeking out every crevice on my body. I have to kill it immediately, then dispose of the body.....

I just got Raid and sprayed on the little red devil. I used about half the can, so surely it will kill the roach and whatever roach children it might have spawned. I'll douse it with hairspray now just to make sure I kill it.

Oh, wait a second. That's not a roach. That's a wadded up credit card receipt. Nevermind.