By Beauty Damned

Killer

Normally, I wouldn't start a new entry this late at night when I have to work tomorrow, but I happen to have a story that urgently needs to be told.

I went to dinner with my good friend Ivette tonight. We had some Mexican food and drank a pitcher of sangria and walked her precious little Maltese through our neighborhood, enjoying the temperate weather and the moderate exercise. I came home and did dishes and called Rob to say goodnight. I figured I'd watch a little tv before heading off to sleep. As I sat there staring sleepily at the television, I saw a sight from the corner of my eye that sent my heart into my mouth. It was a Gigantic, Brown, Bug. A cockroach, if you will.

Now you must know that I have seen a few strange things since moving into this house a few years ago, but not that many, and most I have just attributed to the fact that I grew up in California and Oregon and this is just a different region with different bugs. Bigger. Bugs. The first summer I lived in this house I saw a couple of giant black beatles with wings that would fly through my kitchen occasionally when the door was open. I've also seen silverfish in my house. You know, the flat silver worms with a zillion legs that move at the speed of light across your floor, throwing your cat into a total tailspin? I've also spotted the occasional spider. But never a roach. Now I couldn't tell you positively that this was a roach, but to me, it looked and acted very much like a giant cockroach.

So anyway, I see this thing out of the corner of my eye, coming out of my bedroom and scurrying into the computer room. Not allowing myself a moment to let the horror sink in, I went after it, grabbing the first thing I could get my hands on which happened to be the latest People Magazine with Renee Zelweger and Kenny Chesney on the cover (WTF?). I brought the rolled up magazine down on the bug with a giant whack. It did not even phase the beast. Not in the least. He kept moving, finding shelter behind one of Rob's demo boxes. I left the room, turned off the lights, closed the door and went to the couch where I dialed Rob and immediately told him of the monstrosity that was hiding in the computer room. He expressed genuine pity for me and relief that he didn't happen to be here at my house on the one night when there was vermin running through the place. Vermin that he might otherwise be expected to aid in annihilating. (When really, I've already learned that I am the tough one in this relationship when it comes to the killing and/or removal of scary bugs.) Sometimes I save the bugs and take them outside to deposit them, sparing their lives in the way that I was always taught to do as a good little Buddhist growing up. But sometimes I can not bring myself to allow them to continue living. I have a hard time letting mosquitos live. When they are sucking the blood from my ankle, my murderous instinct overcomes my compassionate conditioning. I smash them. If I see a spider, daddy longleg or mosquito-eater in my house, I will capture it and put it outside. If I see a cockroach in my house, I will kill it with a vengance like you have never seen before. (I have a special dislike for cockroaches.) So this thing had me feeling psychotic. I knew that I could not sleep in my own house knowing it was alive in here somewhere.

I kept Robert on the phone, fretting wildly about what I was going to do. Suddenly, the beast emerged from underneath the crack in the office door. I shrieked, grabbed the newspaper again and lunged like a maniac, hitting the thing repeatedly, yet it escaped unscathed and scurried beyond my reach and into my closet. Yes, my fucking CLOSET! Knowing this thing was in there, hiding amongst my shoes and clothes was almost enough to make me faint, but I couldn't give up. I was still screeching, Robert was still on the phone trying to say something encouraging and helpful and the fucking roach was still in my closet. I grabbed a big, heavy book and poised myself, waiting for the hideous bug to come and face me. As my eyes focused on my shoes all lined up inside the closet, I saw him hiding, snuggled between a pair of brown, strappy, leather sandals, almost the exact same color as his hard, shiny back. He thought he was slick. He thought I couldn't see him there. My heart was beating like a thousand tons against my chest. I hung up the phone with Rob to free both hands. I raised the book as I simultaneously lifted one highheeled shoe, gently, to make room for the murder weapon to hit its mark. Of course, he began to move instantly, I missed, and he retreated further into the back of my closet. I opened the other door and pulled every piece of clothing off the lower rack so I could see the floor clearly. I didn't see him anywhere. But I did see the hole in the wall where he came from. The telephone line was wired to the bedroom and they snaked it in through a small hole in the back of my closet. This looks like a good entry point for any small devil. I sat there staring at the hole for awhile before I slowly started removing shoes one by one. Then I saw him again. I waited until he was on flat ground and I brought the book down on him hard. He was smashed. I had him. I called Rob again. He said "just because it's under the book doesn't mean it's dead....god I'm so glad I'm not there." I thanked him for being the valiant protector that every woman secretly desires and told him I would save the roach for him in a jar so that he could revel in what a stud I am and wallow in what a wimp he is, since we both know that even if he were here, I still would have been the one to catch the motherfucker.

I went to the kitchen to retrieve an empty olive jar from the cupboard. I went back to my closet where the Dilbert Principle sat crushing my victim. I lifted the book slowly and saw movement. The sonofabitch was still alive! But only partially. This is where I started to feel bad, because I'd never done such a thing in all my life. I scooped the bug into the jar, sealed the lid, and watched it struggle for about a minute or two until it died. And there it lies. At the bottom of a Garlic Stuffed Olive jar, on its back, legs frozen in midair: the thing that just a little while ago had my heart racing faster than it's ever raced before. it's true. I've rarely had as much adrenaline pumping through my body as I did when I was chasing that creature. Now that it is dead, it is not the least bit frightening.

I feel sad that I killed this animal tonight, but it had to be. I know it was just living its life, doing what a big ugly brown bug does, but he visited the wrong girl. I cannot rest knowing that a scary bug may run under my covers at any moment. I have enough things to psyche myself out about while falling asleep. Though I must say, I still do have the heebie jeebie creepy crawlies all over. *slaps self up and down*