We’ve all been there.
You turn on a light in the middle of the night and spot a cockroach on the wall. You get up slowly so it doesn’t know you’re coming and grab your weapon of choice. After positioning yourself, you go in for the kill.
But you miss.
Before you can put yourself together to strike again, you notice the cockroach running (or worse, FLYING) towards a corner of your room that you know if it reaches, there’s no hope of getting it. You sprint across the room as fast as you can, knocking down everything in your path.
But you’re too late.
You watch in horror as the little bugger vanishes into the corner. You’ve lost. You can’t possibly go back to sleep now because you KNOW it’s just waiting for the perfect time to strike (i.e crawl in your mouth and poop). You can’t prove that roaches are that smart and evil but you’re not exactly concerned with rationality at the moment.
This is what you do when such a thing happens.
1) Freak the fuck out.
Who’s going to help you? You live alone. And even if you didn’t, do you really want to become known as the boy who cried cockroach? No, you don’t. You’re alone in this world. And that’s super depressing, which means that you’re allowed at least a 3-minute freak out sesh.
2) Wreck your entire house looking for it.
Even in other rooms. Those things are sneaky as hell and might’ve scurried into another room while you were distracted. (Probably during your freak out sesh.)
3) If you don’t find it (because cockroaches are descendants of Houdini), calm yourself.
Have a nice cup of tea or half a bottle of Chelsea dry gin. Nice big gulps. Anything you know can calm your nerves. You know what has to be done. You’re scared and that’s fine. But you knew this day would come. Be brave.
4) Douse your entire house with petrol and set it on fire.
Shhhh. Trust me.
5) Smoke a cigarette and watch it all burn.
Are you now homeless AND on the run from the police because you’re wanted for arson and the murder of all the people in your building who didn’t get out in time? Yes. But you can take solace in the fact that that creepy little bastard couldn’t possibly have survived.
Feeling like a discount John Conner from Terminator 3 (because of the ecstasy that comes with victory), you begin your life as a drifter.