Dear Baby Cockroach,
Dear Baby Cockroach,
You must understand why I cannot let you mature into an adult cockroach. I'm sorry to say it, but your life is going to be short-lived. If I let you live, you will grow up and become more powerful than you can imagine. You see, as a baby cockroach, you do not affect me as such, so that I might have the courage to squish you or flush you down the toilet or brush you into a current of running water flowing down the drain. This I can do if you are little and not so defined. But if I were to let you grow up unscathed, maturing into an adult, not only would you and your buddies get all up into my foodstuffs, leaving crap everywhere, and reproducing in record numbers, but, upon discovering you at a later date, fully grown, I would be crippled with fear, and would likely not be able to make the move I need in order to eliminate you.
I must take you out while I still have the chance. There is something about the combination of antennae, multiple legs, a hard exoskeleton, and the sound of scurrying that makes me freak out like a little girl. I have no problem admitting my irrational fear. I can handle a great many things in this world, including a number of other species of insects and arthropods. Certain ones, though, like the adult cockroach, make me squirm with unparalleled discomfort.
So you see baby cockroach, even though you have successfully avoided my many traps that I have set out, I cannot let you get away. I must end your life here and now, while the iron is proverbially hot. I apologize, as I am usually not this cruel and cold-hearted. I believe in all critters of nature, the survival of the fittest, and the food chain, but I also believe in free enterprise and the principle of ownership. As you are invading my home, you are violating a code we humans have that prohibits one another from stealing other people's stuff. You're not in a position to understand this, and I'm sorry. But you are callously taking advantage of the shelter, heat, electricity, and hot water that I am paying for! I'm sorry, but I have no room for free-loaders. I have no choice but to end your life here and now, before you get too used to this lifestyle.
Goodbye, baby cockroach. I'll see you in hell. Maybe. We'll see.
You must understand why I cannot let you mature into an adult cockroach. I'm sorry to say it, but your life is going to be short-lived. If I let you live, you will grow up and become more powerful than you can imagine. You see, as a baby cockroach, you do not affect me as such, so that I might have the courage to squish you or flush you down the toilet or brush you into a current of running water flowing down the drain. This I can do if you are little and not so defined. But if I were to let you grow up unscathed, maturing into an adult, not only would you and your buddies get all up into my foodstuffs, leaving crap everywhere, and reproducing in record numbers, but, upon discovering you at a later date, fully grown, I would be crippled with fear, and would likely not be able to make the move I need in order to eliminate you.
I must take you out while I still have the chance. There is something about the combination of antennae, multiple legs, a hard exoskeleton, and the sound of scurrying that makes me freak out like a little girl. I have no problem admitting my irrational fear. I can handle a great many things in this world, including a number of other species of insects and arthropods. Certain ones, though, like the adult cockroach, make me squirm with unparalleled discomfort.
So you see baby cockroach, even though you have successfully avoided my many traps that I have set out, I cannot let you get away. I must end your life here and now, while the iron is proverbially hot. I apologize, as I am usually not this cruel and cold-hearted. I believe in all critters of nature, the survival of the fittest, and the food chain, but I also believe in free enterprise and the principle of ownership. As you are invading my home, you are violating a code we humans have that prohibits one another from stealing other people's stuff. You're not in a position to understand this, and I'm sorry. But you are callously taking advantage of the shelter, heat, electricity, and hot water that I am paying for! I'm sorry, but I have no room for free-loaders. I have no choice but to end your life here and now, before you get too used to this lifestyle.
Goodbye, baby cockroach. I'll see you in hell. Maybe. We'll see.
posted by Leland J. Fischer at 12:19 AM
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