I hate roaches. I say hate because it is not a matter of being afraid of them. I've stomped on roaches, smashed them with my shoe and even drowned a few that dared to find themselves in my kitchen sink.
Well I haven't seen a roach in a few days so tonight, imagine my surprise when I noticed one in the sink. I have to admit, these things bring out the worst in me. I turned the water on and turned the hose on that little sucker, hoping not to kill it this time, but to scare it. I wanted to keep it alive to leave a message for its friends that this isn't the place for trespassing. Sure enough, I turned the pipe off to give it a minute to catch itself and escape. In seconds, the creature kind of half scurried, half wobbled to the edge of the sink. Perched there for a few seconds, it seemed to try to get its bearings to determine if its legs were strong enough to allow it to climb down the slope or whether it could simply jump the rest of the way. All the while, there I am with the hose in my hand, wondering at this strange bought of mercy I was dispensing. The next thing I know, the creature dove for the floor in a desperate and equally foolish attempt at escape and landed on its back. Its little legs danced around for a few seconds as it tried to turn over, but I guess it had not fully recovered from its swim and soon it stopped. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure its dead. I can't begin to express the level of grief and disappointment that I feel. I should have just drowned the stupid bastard. SIGH!
The whole scenario reminded me of this one night, I was on the phone with my mother, carrying on a rather hearty conversation when all of a sudden, she remarked quite loudly, "wait, you's an idiot?" Struck by this random, out of place comment, I paused. "Wait, hold on Allison," she continued. "He got to be an idiot. Let me get the weapon of mass destruction."
It was at this point that I realised my mother was speaking to some unsuspecting roach who either had a death wish, or one of his friends probably dared him to go into that crazy woman's house. I could just picture them all huddled around like its some sort of Halloween prank, if you believe in those things, cheering him on and telling him to try his luck by going in. He probably new in town and was a bit sceptical about the tales of other young, dare devil roaches that dared to cross my mother's path, but never lived to tell the tale. Anyway, there I sat listening to sound of insecticide being sprayed and I pictured the roach brethren outside with their heads bowed in sorrowful silence as they realised that yet another one had bit the dust. Another few seconds later, my mother came back to the phone to begin to explain to me how she had to go and deal with the idiot cockroach.
So, by now, you've probably deduced two things: 1. I have inherited my mother's obvious aversion to roaches and 2. My mother also has a weapon of mass destruction, but hers is quite different to mine. These days, the only villains it fights are the occasional insect and that isn't too often.
Allison is mother to two active boys who challenge her on a day to day basis with their escapades. In her other life, Allison juggles a regular day job as a marketing executive in a health food organization. At night, when everyone is asleep, she dreams of being a fulltime writer and super hero.