To: The Bug(s) in My Apartment
CC: Any Bug(s) or Rodent(s) Considering Inhabiting My Apartment
From: Curly McDimple
Re: Your Most Unwelcome Squatting
First order of business -- for the sake of my mental health, I'm going to gloss over all obvious indicators that place you squarely in the roach family. I'm going to continue to let myself believe that the species that just paid me a visit is of the waterbug variety. For whatever fucked up reason, it just makes me feel better to think so. Mind you, I don't like them either but they are at least a rung or two lower than roaches on the gross-out scale. Silly and delusional of me, I know, but kindly indulge me.
Secondly, I fully realize that I live in New York City, an old city rife with vermin and other disgusting pests, and I shouldn't be too shocked when said vermin decides to drop in on my wee studio. But I still am. I choose to reside in a clean, tidy living space ALONE and I'd like to keep it that way. I eschew vermin for the same reason I eschew roommates... they're dirty and always getting into my shit.
Now perhaps your recent intrusion was due to the fact that you got worried about a comrade who only last week decided to explore the small confines of my studio. When a waterbug doesn't return to the nest, perhaps it is your duty and obligation to form a search party. Um yeah, while I mostly respect social norms and mores, I have to discourage you from continuing this practice. Particularly in this case as it's a hopeless cause. I caught one glimpse of your friend and in one fell swoop lunged for a can of Raid and gassed that mofo into oblivion. I nearly had an asthma attack from the fumes but seeing his motionless corpse was more than worth the pair of scorched lungs I suffered.
Do I need to spell it out for you? My apartment is not a safe haven for your ilk. Just ask the mouse that dared rear its head in here two years ago. Granted, I did not kill it directly. It's rather hard to perform such an execution while stricken with fear standing atop one's coffee table. While I screamed bloody murder, I couldn't quite carry it out, you see. It wasn't for lack of trying though. I realize it's rather incongruous but I took the smooth stones from the meditation garden on my coffee table and fired them with ferocious strength in the direction of the rodent. It matters not that I missed. What matters is that the mouse ran back into the hole it came from and then most likely shit twice and died (knock wood). An hour and a pair of sweat-soaked pajamas later, I summoned the courage to dismount the coffee table and call the super, who plugged up the hole and set traps to take care of that little fucker and all others for good.
The same super has been notified of your recent activity and mark my words, your days are numbered. In fact, one of your brethren is already dead. I spotted the bugger when I got home from work tonight and sprung into action. Granted, the closest thing at hand was a glass of water but it still surprised him! I bet he was expecting bug spray or loud shrieking but that sudden dousing of Poland Spring caught him off guard and sent him into a tailspin. Shock and awe, indeed.
To his credit, he tried faking me out by hiding behind the garbage but a series of swift kicks to the can and squirts of Raid smoked him out and sent him fleeing towards the fridge. He then deftly dodged my stomping feet causing me to retreat and compose myself. And then in a sneak attack, he dropped from the ceiling behind me. Now, that could very well have been a second bug entirely but again, for the sake of my nerves, I'm choosing to believe that the first bug made himself invisible and flew past me undetected. Regardless if it was the same bug or not, its dive-bombing tactic proved to be a miserable failure as was its subsequent fast-break for the closet. I cut him off at the pass with another quick kick-and-spray combo. He turned tail and headed through an open field towards the bathroom. After a couple more evasive maneuvers on his part, I came at him with a surprise left foot and smashed him but good. The force at which I stomped even drowned out the disgusting crunching noise that normally has me gagging.
So let this be a lesson to you. It wasn't an easy battle, I'll admit, but I'm ready for round two. Sure, I'm twitching now with a perpetual case of the heebie-jeebies and I fully plan on wrapping myself in a blanket cocoon and sleeping with my shoes on tonight... but victory will STILL be mine. Or at the very least, the super's.