The following occurred over a year ago, when I was living in an apartment on Babcock Street. Welcome to the Cock Street Chronicles, part one.
3am. Party at my apartment ended a half hour ago. I'm entirely too drunk. Didn't even get any bitches. Sad times. Feel a rumbly in my tumbly. This is it. Gotta take a shit. Go to bathroom. Unleash torrential chocolate downpour. Feels incredible but the combo of the unholy smell and my drunkness makes me nauseous. By now I'm swaying and pirate-facing.
Hear a strange noise. Look around. See the source of the noise. Massive cockroach. The freaking titan of cockroaches. When other roaches see it, they probably run in fear screaming "oh my god, oh my god no." Don't know what to do. Trapped on the toilet. Too drunk to logic. Barefoot. This is the most horrible moment of my life.
It notices me. Oh shit. It charges right at my feet. Don't know what to do. Too drunk to brave. Lift legs in the air. Yell through door for my roommate.
"Mike!... MIKE!"
"grmmmmmm"
"MIKE THERE'S A THING! THERE'S A THING TRYING TO EAT MY FEET!"
"... Go to sleep...!"
Misinterpret roommate's advice. Proceed to pretend I'm asleep. Don't have a good excuse. Legs still in the air. Fake snore. Eyes closed. An hour passes. Realize that I actually fell asleep. Look down. Megaroach still there. Waiting.
Decide I have the power of Thor within me. Scream gibberish at roach titan and smash it with my foot. Roach goo all over foot. Wipe ass and then hop over to bathtub. Wash foot. Miscalculate everything. Barf. On foot. Wash foot again. Ordeal finally over. Flush toilet. Wash hands. Leave bathroom.
Mega-ultra-roach v.2 is in the hallway. No more of this shit. Stare that fucker down. That fucker runs away. Enter bedroom triumphant. Sleep like a champion. Bacon in the morning. Later, go to take shower. Attacked by moth.
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