Attack of the Freaky Flying Florida Cockroaches II

This is the first significant attack since the infamous Cockroach Shower Incident last year. I attribute this lull in hostilities to my own constant vigilance. There’s just no substitute for assiduously sweeping all shower and sleep areas for these nasty creatures before entering to prevent physical or psychological harm to oneself. Constant vigilance was working…clearly it wasn’t enough.

There I lay on the couch: cozy, full and drowsy with my feet propped on Wonderful Boyfriend’s lap.

Wonderful Boyfriend: are you falling asleep?

Me: mmmmmm

WB: Do you want to go to bed?

M: hrum...mmmmm

I was continuing to lounge when something, much like a piece of wadded up paper swiped the side of my head. In my comfort induced haze I wondered: “why would WB throw paper at me for not really answering a question he knows damn well I probably won’t answer? Where did he get the paper from? And man…that was a pretty impressive hook shot to hit me on my far ear…”

Cranky because my powers of deduction have been overpowered, I sat up, opened my eyes and immediately all warm fuzzies were gone: a giant, shiny, disease carrying cockroach is chilling out on my left boob/shoulder area.

Overwhelmed with disgust I let out the hybrid gasp-shriek that is reserved for finding strange people hiding closets and cockroach encounters. This noise, as usual, had it's desired effect of getting WB's attention as I clearly could not be expected to touch the foul thing that was currently besmirching the shoulder of my dress.

Seizing up the situation remarkably fast given that the warm, comfy, full fuzzies had descended upon him as well, WB threw all caution to the wind and snatched that bugger off my shirt, threw it on the floor and walloped it with a coffee table.

Since my gratitude was inherent in the cessation of screaming, I hightailed it to the shower to scrub my shoulder with carbolic soap and the hardest bristled brush I could find. As I went I heard the following transpire from behind me:

“What?!?!” (WOMP!!)

“JESUS!!!” (WOMP!!)

(Sound of the couch being moved) “ …what the hell?!??”

I don’t want to know.