Three lovely ladies are in an office on a conference call, open the door to ask someone else to join them, scoot chairs around to accommodate new person only to find.... a dead (yes, it was rather well petrified) cockroach (aka minions of Satan)?
The answer my friend is some screeching (which I will not admit to) and removal of said Satan bug by person we so lovingly invited to our meetings. I doubt he'll be returning to any of our meetings ever again.
I would like to add however, that I consider myself brave on the cockroach front (even if I did whimper. Maybe. I might have). You see, when The Shabby Princess was sent off to Royal University she was forced to live in the dorms. Sadly, there were no castles available near by. Shucks. That said, there was this blasted cockroach that lived in my freaking room that wouldn't die. And I mean wouldn't. Isn't there something about cockroaches like they can live for a week without their heads or something? Well! This one certainly had that power. The dang thing lasted through several roommates. Roommate K and I first found the evil being in November. M moved into the dorm in January.
Our first encounter of the bug went something like this (mind you, this is with M. K did in fact try to kill the thing, chucking a can of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup at it. Didn't work. Nice try though).
"M! M! There's a cockroach!"
"Oh my god! Kill it! Kill it!" M is yelling as I'm looking for something to throw at the beast. Shoes? Shoes, why not. Die, die, die! So, we hurl a show (a flip flop I believe, which, in my opinion are the best at killing bugs. Very squash-ible.
So, we beat the living tar out of the thing. Smile at each other. "Ah, relief". And we return to watching some Johnny Depp movie and downing the Diet Coke as we had an exam the next day.
All well and good, right?
Ha, no, wrong.
As I was tidying up that night, I go to pick up my shoes from their place in bug killing world and put them in closet. La, la, la picking up room, la, la, la, clean, clean, shoes....Cockroach. Gone. Not. Under. Shoe. Repeat: gone.
The freaking out begins. Again. As we scurry the place, can't find it. Which, means, obviously that the bastard Satan bug has thus crawled into one of our beds (or even better, quickly reproduced in the last 45 minutes and is now sending an army of baby cockroaches--oh, I shudder....) and is waiting to bit us and suck the life out of us.
Obviously. Because that's what cockroaches do. They suck life. Similar to vampires. Riiiiiiiiigt.
This revelation resulted in bed linens being stripped, all shoes checked for life forms, and insane amounts of Lysol used. On everything. We figured, we were safe. Maybe the little minion died under one of our desks or something. So, M and I went to sleep. And had horrible dreams. And, mind you, we were sleeping without sheets. Camping style on top of the bed with random blankets we'd deemed safe as our coverings for the night.
And no one believed us. Because they were unaware of the power of the little beast bugs. We'd tell the story jokingly "ha, ha, we had to get up early to do laundry", "ha, ha, we're going to Costco for more Lysol" (if I remember correctly we couldn't use Raid or any bug killers. Someone smuggled Lysol. Thank you, whoever that was). It was all hilarious. Because, the more we thought about it, this stuff could only happen to us. After all, the bug had to be dead. It's been several months.
Ha, ha, you'd be wrong.
The cockroach's death occurred in a manner that we will not discuss here, as there may be some Cockroach Support Group out there (why?), so, in any event, we had two more visits from the elusive thing before his (?) life was ended and he journeyed down the happy water slide that resides in our washroom. Ha, ha cockroach. You cannot defeat Her Shabbyness.
So, moral is, the dead one in the office--easy peasy--it was at least dead!
The caterpillar that I found crawling up my shirt a few weeks ago? Sheer horror. *
*Yes, I realize I used the term "Satan" quite a lot. But, seriously, have you seen those buggers? Ew. Shudder, shudder. And, while when I was a kid, caterpillars are awesome, they are not so much when you find them crawling on you. At work. My apologies to the future butterfly community.