The Gull Reef Club

9/19/2005

Arrgh like a Pirate, Scream like a Little Girl

Filed under: — Jaime @ 10:15 pm

While I can’t be certain, I believe this story started early this morning when I was woken up by the incessant mewing of Jerry Garcia. He was rummaging around our bedroom, jumping in and out of the clothesbasket, and making a general nuisance of himself. When I finally dragged myself out of bed to get ready for work I found Jerry stalking something underneath our bathtub (old claw foot type). I dropped to his level and did a quick check for disabled creatures. Not seeing anything, I chalked up his weirdness to the full moon and moved on.

Cut to 14 hours later. I am in the shower, listening to a Coast to Coast repeat and lathering up the locks with my Garnier Fructice (woowoo). I glimpse a dark mass moving up the outside of one of the shower curtains. Squeek. Even with out my glasses, I recognize that evil shape and movement as that of the palmetto bug b/k/a – huge ass roach. As is natural with beings as large as we humans in the face of relatively small, harmless creatures, I became frozen in terror.

Hours could have passed as I stared at the scurrying roach. Three-quarters of the way up, I realized I needed to do something or it may come over the top and join me in the shower. Not having many choices, I opted to smack the shower curtain in hopes to smash it against the wall. Whack! No characteristic crunch which means it dropped either 1) on the floor (hopefully) or 2) into the tub (oh please no).

Freaked out now that the roach may be in the shower with me, I lean out, grab my glasses and start to examine the floor of the tub and the side on which it may or may not have fallen. Within seconds, my glasses are covered in water drops and fogged up rendering them completely useless. I manage to finish the examination of the shower and felt safe in concluding I had at least knocked the beast to the floor.

Before I can return my glasses to the sink counter, the bastard is back and climbing up the wall directly above the showerhead. Eeeeep. It’s still moving and at a good clip. It had become clear I wouldn’t be able to rinse away my shampoo turban until I rid the bathroom of this little fiend once and for all. Leaning out and trying not to drip too much, I reached for the thigh high magazine mountain that grows in our bathroom. Maxim, damn. Outdoor Photography, no. Popular Science, hmm, nah. Hurricane Preparation Guide, perfect.

I roll up the guide and return to the shower. Roachie is a little too high for me to reach it. I try and splash a little water at it. Antennae twitch. More water, more twitching of the antennae. This succeeds only in getting my bathroom wall wet. The bold monster is intrigued by the water and moves onto the showerhead. Ahhhhhhhhhh!!! WHACK! It hit that bastard straight on and it had the nerve to fly over the shower and land on the floor by the door. As it scuttles out under the door crack, Mike walks in to make sure I haven’t fallen and broken something in the tub. “No, honey. Just a roach and it went where you’re standing now.”

I cautiously complete my shower and subsequent dry off rituals. So far so good, no roach. I leave the bathroom and am relieved to see the troops have rallied. Sugaree is guarding the door. Jerry has the west end of the hall guarding the closet. Stella’s got the east end of the hall, covering both the office and the stairs. I’m certain the roach made it out of the bathroom ok, but I don’t think it got much farther. At least that is what I’m telling myself in order to sleep tonight.

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The Gull Reef Club