Concerning Cockroaches

As cockroaches threaten to take over Paul McDermott's life, he comes up with a novel solution.

I am at war. I am at war with an adversary who does not recognise the suffering of war nor art of war. An adversay whose resources are limitless and who is more numerous than the stars. The cockroach.

The war began after they sabotaged a late night snack. A crach team of SAS roachs infiltrated the stayfresh bag- my life would never be the same.

It was late and I fixed myself a small reward, a bowl of a well-known breakfast cereal, dates back to my childhood and affords me some small comfort when I am feeling well-known breakfast cereal, dates back to my childhood and affords me some small comfort when I am feeling depressed. Pouring out the golden flakes of corn a hard, dark husk loitered at the bottom of the bowl. My eyes being weak and my responses slow, I thought it was nothing more than a "golden flake" that had been overcooked. A black sheep in a field of corn, a hunk of charcoal, a little bit of cereal gristle.

I poured the milk. The gristle moved. It twitched.

Its tiny ugly antennae unfurled. A polished exoskeleton scuttling over my golden flakes. Filled with disgust and revulsion, I picked up the offending creature out of the infested mire and crushed it. My reward was ruined by the miniscule monster and, distraught, I threw the bowl into the sink.

This incident alone failed to push me over the brink. It was the surprise attack moments later that caused me tosnap.

I went to change the fax paper. I lifted the hood on the machine and recoiledas five roaches fled the light. The new turn in their campaign shocked me. I had staked out most areas that contain food or scrapings of skin, but I never thought that they would attempt to infiltrate the machines.

To battle the cockroach, I have had to think as they do. Our needs are remarkably similar- eat, eat, reproduce, eat. I have put myself in their shell. Each day the differences are becoming less distinct- the boundaries are begining to blur. There is still one major difference between the roaches and myself. They do not pay rent.

I have tried to live in harmony with nature, but I live in absolute hatred of cockroaches. Do not misake me, I do snap.

I went to change the fax paper. I lifted the hood on the machine and recoiledas five roaches fled the light. The new turn in their campaign shocked me. I had staked out most areas that contain food or scrapings of skin, but I never thought that they would attempt to infiltrate the machines.

To battle the cockroach, I have had to think as they do. Our needs are remarkably similar- eat, eat, reproduce, eat. I have put myself in their shell. Each day the differences are becoming less distinct- the boundaries are begining to blur. There is still one major difference between the roaches and myself. They do not pay rent.

I have tried to live in harmony with nature, but I live in absolute hatred of cockroaches. Do not misake me, I donot fear them: the emotion that I feel is deepeer and darker than that. It is an awareness of "the truth".

They inhabit the same space, they eat the same food, they frolic in the same bed. Under my roof they have the same rights as me. It is a struggle for life and only the strongest will survive. I have bombed, baited, laid traps, mixed obscene concoctions developed on the isle of of Haiti. I have danced naked in the moonlight, prayed to pagan gods and killed with my bare thumb. Still the hideous hordescontinue to pour from every nook and cranny.

All methods to eradicate them have failed. I have made intricate notes concerning the effectiveness of the various agents of roach death. I am Vlad the impaler, Genghis Khan, Pol Pot. I am numbered among those who enjoy the fever-pitch of battle and display their victims as trophies. I have ritualised the deaths of my loathsome adversaries. I wear their shattered carcasses as a necklace. In "Spartacus" a broken army crucified to show the resolve of the emporerand what happens to those who oppose his rule. I have crucified the roaches on Paddle Pop sticks evenly spaced on the main road to the fridge. This is what happens to those who defy the might of Rome.

You may think that all this has brought me some measure of comfort. It has not. The one small joy in death I find is contained within the "Cockroach Hotel". What a marvellous deuce. TV has lost all interest for me. I sit in an armchair and gaze at my captives as they writhe in agony attempting to escape thier fate. As they twist out of their out of their skins, snap their limbs, I watch, I have no desire to channel surf. It's all there on that sticky toxic piece of cardboard- life, death, the eternal struggle.

I have, you may argue, lost my humanity in this struggle. But in this war surrounded by constant death, I have found a clarity to life I have never known before. I have seen the truth and am not afraid to speak it. We all heard when we destroy our planet, cockroaches will rule the earth. Why do we attempt to delude ourselves? They rule it now.

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