Their corpses littered the floor - in the bathroom, the kitchen, even crouched under the dining table. Their last moments spent scrambling for safety - anywhere - but no where could they hide for death was inevitable. The removal process began. Their appendages curled tight and set in stone by rigor mortis, crispy shells of remains they had become. The clean up effort could take days as bodies appear from hidden trenches. It seems as though the war has ended - at least for the moment.
My own government and council had always been humane, this type of attack would have never been passed through parliament. The protocol was simple and diplomatic. Trespassers were caught and released without harm. They either survived the drop from the two story dwelling or were subject to the ‘flush’ removal procedure.
Recently the citizens of neighboring dwellings had protested at the trespassers’ growing aggression and so the overriding government had no choice but to take action. The consequences so brutal, the results a small scale nuclear devastation. The heavy armor that had kept this species alive for millions of years was no match for the g-bomb. The poisonous gas so toxic our entire community would have to evacuate for the afternoon.
As I swept their remains into a dustbin I said a silent farewell to the brave soldiers with furry eyebrows and over sized antenna that barely fit under a martini glass trap. Their last battle would be one where they weren’t given a chance to fight. There was no loud crack as their armor broke, no bolting across the hardwood floor to find safety under a piece of furniture, no diving behind a bag of cookies in the cupboard or turning to confront their captor and run up her pant leg (that was a fearless one that day!)
No, it was just a slow and painful death by an invisible enemy. And even though I never invited these putrid, vile insects into my apartment, they did occasionally provide entertainment with a little game of chase - a distraction that usually came at just the right time. A reminder to confront fear, however grotesque it seemed.
So long cockroaches, RIP.