 Phobia |
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I just had a completely hysterical episode with a flying cockroach. Seriously, I think I might still vomit. I tore around the house in a frenzy, searching for the Bengal roach spray. I hurled the dogs into the bathroom and locked the cats in my room because I maniacally sprayed it with some kind of foaming hornet spray and it FLEW ACROSS THE ROOM. Good fuck almighty. I then saw it limping on the floor so that's when I locked the animals away, screaming, "Daisy NOOOOOOO!" as she sniffed it. I am surprised and somewhat dismayed that no neighbors rushed over considering that the door was open and I was screaming repeatedly as I chased it all over the house. I called my mom and took off my glasses so I couldn't really see it as I swept it into the dustpan. My mom had to assure me for five minutes that roaches don't know how to play dead before I had the nerve to sweep it up as it lay on its back drenched and motionless. See, they are my one true phobia. My dad used to have to carry me from the car to the back door if my family arrived home after dark. I woke up with a flattened one in my bunk bed at camp when I was twelve. I have stepped on one in my bare feet and had one scamper up my leg. I mean, I fear them. I worry there is a whole family of them. I have seen maybe five or six since I moved in, which I realize is really nothing, and most of them S. killed or took care of. And it's ridiculous but I am just terrified of them. They are the most repugnant of creatures. They are a scourge. I was going to try to sleep tonight without a sleeping pill but FORGET IT!
© Copyright 2003 elb |
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