I just had my first run-in with a giant African cockroach. It was about 1.5 x 0.75 inches, and looked like the flat, wet end of a discarded cigar.
It all started as I was making dinner. The potatoes were bubbling merrily in the water, prepping for the ultimate comfort food: mashed. A robust funnel of steam was rising from the pot causing the glass in the cupboard doors to fog over. I was chopping and washing, slicing and measuring, carelessly…ignorantly. Looking for the roasting pan, I opened the cupboard and there it was, as obscene as if a stranger had evacuated right there on the shelf. And then it moved.
I screamed and ran gingerly, rapidly so my feet would barely touch the ground. “OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodit’sacockroachinthecupboard.”
Craig looked up from his laptop and said, “So it begins.” Stoney-faced, he walked into the kitchen and hand wrapped only in a paper towel, plucked the roach from its perch. He strode to the window and flung it out into the night.