The Cockroach from Hell

After having had a lazy Sunday staying in bed all day, I finally decided to get up at around 10pm. I took off all my clothes and wrapped myself in a huge, soft towel.

I made my way to the bathroom. I wanted to give myself a nice, thorough washing. I untied my hair and slipped off the towel. The thought of the water's chill made me shiver... I started to pour water all over me. To my surprise, it was satisfyingly warm. Mmmmm. I sighed with pleasure. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, a movement near the bathroom window caught my attention.

Shit! A cockroach! Of all the things I hate in this world, its way up there with death and torture. My first instinct was to run for it. But then I saw that the little vermin was already holed up in the gap between the wall, its feelers waving mockingly at me. Maybe this wasn’t the flying kind. I decided to take my chances. Foregoing a shampoo, conditioning and a body and facial scrub, I hastily rubbed a bar of soap on myself. Suddenly the damn thing started to fly! Aaaaaaah! Fuuuckk! All the expletives in the world seem to rush to my head, mingling with my fear, erasing any coherent thought.

I crouched in terror, ready to crawl on the bathroom floor if it even comes anywhere near me. But it landed on the wall opposite the door. In panic, I hurriedly unlocked the door and ran across the living room, a combination of soap and water trailing after me, with the hopes of finding our housekeeper so she can kill the bastard.

I went to the kitchen and froze. Oh my God. There was my uncle, pretending all at once to hide his shock and to not have seen my nakedness. I backtracked immediately and to my horror, I realized that our front door was wide open! I imagined all the people outside. My house was right by the road. God! Some unwitting passerby, my elderly neighbor or even the guy manning the cell phone shop near our front gate must have gotten the shock of their lives.

I don't wanna ever know who saw me that night. My uncle seeing me was mortifying enough.

I went to my grandma's room, which is right beside the bathroom, hoping to find something to cover me up. All I found was her ancient, threadbare face towel. In desperation, I used that minuscule piece of cloth to cover up what it could and shouted for my sister.

The moment she saw me, she clearly thought I was crazy, (crazier than usual, that is) standing there, naked as the day I was born, dripping with soapsuds with a piece of face towel held against my chest. I hurriedly explained to her what happened and asked her to call my boyfriend. Apparently, our housekeeper, who is also our in-house cockroach killer was nowhere to be found.

When the boyfriend arrived, I was still hiding in my grandma's room, now wearing her house dress. He checked every corner of the bathroom but the cockroach was nowhere to be found. He told me to get on with my bath. I hesitated… then dashed back in to the bathroom. But I realized I couldn’t do it knowing that the cockroach was still lurking somewhere, spying on me, ready to pounce once again. So I turned the shower on full-blast, swiftly twisted my body in every angle to get the soap off, grabbed my towel, quickly wrapped it around me and made another mad dash out the bathroom door.

I went to the kitchen sink and wiped off the remaining suds with a wash cloth while my pounding heart started to slow down. Sadly, I trudged back to my room and donned a fresh set of clothes, disappointed to have my planned bath go down the drain. “Where is the cockroach, where is the cockroach?” I muttered darkly over and over again.

Moments later, the boyfriend came in and handed me a bottle of beer, trying hard not to laugh. Apparently, my sister told him the whole story. I stuck out my tongue at him but gratefully took a swig of the ice-cold drink.