"I give up," I mumbled as I crawled into my warm sleeping bag. I had spent the last ten minutes trying to kill a cockroach that insisted upon crawling all over my bunk bed. Try as I might, my sturdy hiking boots just wouldn't do him in. He scampered away into the dark, yet somehow I saw him in every dream...
"Ugh! He's back!!" I shrieked with surprise. For the past several nights, I had been crawling into bed without shinning my flashlight over my sleeping bag. I had decided it was better not to know which creepy crawler occupied it this time. But alas, Mr. Cockroach had planted himself squarely on top of my toiletries and wasn't backing down. Seeing my disgust, Emily, my roommate, came over to assist me. I grabbed the closest shoe, my adorable brown pumps, and handed it to her. In an almost graceful maneuver, she managed to clobber the cockroach in one fatal blow. It was quickly buried in our garbage can, though I briefly considered keeping it as a trophy.
What, you may ask, is the moral to this dramatic story? Well, next time you visit a third world country, forget the hiking boots and go for the heels!
Go Emily! I must say however, your hiking boots came in handy for killing the tarantula when I was there last summer ;-)
ReplyDeleteMiss Carissa! What I wouldn't give to see a Honduran cockroach spiked on the end of a heel... or rather, anything reminding me of my dear home so far away!
ReplyDeleteI realize I didn't end up getting your email or anything... and it is it true that you have my oboe tools?
Miss you!