February 19, 2007
gulag

Second large cockroach found in the house in the last couple of days, this one just hanging out on the floor of the office next to the beanbag where I've been sleeping lately. I'm pretty sure it was waiting for me to come down there so it could crawl into my nasal cavity and make me do its bidding, but I made for our extraction tools, and put it out in the little roach Gitmo that has sprung up on the table on the front porch. The insurgents are resistant to questioning, but the cold makes them sluggish, and the lack of nutrition and contact with other creepy little fuckers should make them pliable to our demands before too long. Every night, they have to ask themselves, is tonight the night a cat or a raccoon finds me? Knocks over my tupperware cage and rips me apart before my frozen and starved legs can spring into action? It's a cruel fate, but we can't allow any measure of compassion in this war - if we show a moment's weakness, the others, the seething crawly masses entrenched in the very walls will sense it, and strike without hesitation or remorse. It's a cold world out there.

(February 19, 2007 01:06 AM)
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