What’s more sweet and cuddly than a German cockroach? Even if we don’t love them back, they obviously love us because they scurry to gather wherever we live. We poison them; we step on them; it doesn’t matter – such love is unconditional and pure. Are we untidy? They forgive such faults – they even love us more!
Dogs are wonderful, but for true fidelity, a German cockroach has to be mankind’s best friend.
Feeling warm and fuzzy? I knew that would touch you (feel those feelers!) For the next three weeks (6 installments!) Just Plain Stupid will honor the age-old relationship with a complete, and entire (yes, I know they mean the same thing, but I’m trying to build here,) story. This story is completely and entirely (sounds even better as adverbs) free of charge!
(That doesn’t mean you can’t send me $$$ if you feel inclined.) (How can I help you feel inclined?)
Here’s part one of…
by Headley Hauser
Its appeal was strong. Something in the smell, a sweet, almost enchanting fragrance, like an open can of peas, compelling him to enter. Over the last few days, everyone else had gone in. He hadn’t seen any come out. Now he was alone, alone with the box.
Why hadn’t he followed all the others? It wasn’t as if he missed them. He was small, and they always picked on him. The others kept him from food, banning him from the prime spots under the refrigerator and stove. No female ever invited him to mate. Not a single roach cared for him.
He wasn’t sorry to see them go. Now he could wander under the refrigerator to his heart’s content. He was number one! Of course there was no number two or three, but that made him more special.
He was the only roach left.
Why did he spend so much time staring at this box? There was… something – something he couldn’t explain – that warned him of danger. Could there be a killer in the box? Perhaps some great beetle lurked inside. Maybe it killed all the others and ate them slowly. Only Roach’s antennae twitched involuntarily. No, it wasn’t a great beetle, but that was close enough. There was danger and death in the box, he was sure of it. He longed for whatever made the sweet scent, but now he could ignore it. He could resist the scent. He wasn’t going to die in the box.
He rummaged beneath the refrigerator and then under the stove. Food was everywhere, far more than he could eat. He was in paradise, if it weren’t for this odd feeling. Maybe… he should travel? A roach never travels when he has all he could want right in front of him.
Again, that feeling…
He decided to travel, though he didn’t understand why. He thought there was another tribe somewhere in the house. The other tribe would kill him, just as his tribe killed strangers. Well, they used to kill strangers. Only Roach was his own tribe now, and he didn’t feel like killing strangers.
He also wasn’t about to talk himself out of this nonsensical urge to wander. He set out.
Tune in (or whatever you do on the internet,) Thursday for Part Two!