August 15, 2005

traveling show

Long-time readers of this here blog will recall that I've done battle in my Tiny Wee Studio with the occasional r-o-a-c-h. When one of these disgusting creatures invades my home, I freak out royally. I wish they didn't bother me so but I can't help it. I seriously cannot abide them.

However, I learned a little something about myself this weekend.

On Saturday, I was hanging with The Lovely Jess in her apartment. We were about 3/4 of the way through The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou when I noticed a monstrous black thing scaling the wall at breakneck speed. I was grossed out but remained remarkably calm.

I now realize that I only flip the fuck out when one of these bastards is in my home. Same thing with mice and rats. I skeeve when I see them in the street or in the subway but other than a stifled squeal, a quick shudder and rapid fleeing in the opposite direction, I don't really lose my shit... as much. If a sighting occurs in my abode? The shit is SO lost, it's never to be found again. Not even with the help of St. Anthony.

So I pointed out the not-so-wee fucker to Jess and said, "Hey! Look!"

Mind you, if this occurred in my apartment, I would not have been nearly as calm and collected. Instead, I would have flapped my arms wildly and crashed into shit while emitting yelps and squeals at a decibel audible only to dogs.

Jess got an eyeful of the intruder and well, in the history of our friendship, I don't think I've ever seen her look so petrified. Well, except that time we saw a fat woman's exposed beav at Brighton Beach. Even so, this was a whole new look for her -- sheer terror. Her mouth fell open and she let fly with a rapid-fire series of anguished "Oh my Gods!"

But after the initial shock, Jess pulled herself together. Her fear was slightly tempered by the presence of her cat, John Brown. He's adorable and fluffy but don't let that fool you! He's got a storied past of viciously killing vermin in all its gruesome forms. He's tortured and dismembered rodents and insects alike.

So our plan was to knock the fucker off the wall so that John Brown could make short work of it when it landed on the floor. In theory, that was a brilliant, air-tight plan. In reality... not so much.

What followed was a display of comedic hijinks that rivaled Lucy and Ethel's most absurd antics. Lacking a can of bug spray, we launched an attack against the beast with the following improvised arsenal:
:: Yuengling and Rolling Rock bottle caps
:: Wadded up balls of wet paper towel
:: Fantastik
:: Glass Plus
:: Fly swatter*
:: Umbrella
* Note: The fly swatter was flung in the direction of the bug, not used in the traditional swatting/flattening sense

After hiding behind the wall clock, the r-o-a-c-h went on the offensive and charged in our direction along the ceiling beam. This sent Jess and I into a shrieking panic. I may have even peed in my pants a little.

But I managed to combat my fear and incontinence and get a few good shots of Glass Plus in before the bug leapt from the beam and crashed into the floor near the TV.

After a little gross-out dance, Jess and I moved away to give John Brown sufficient room to pounce.

The pouncing never quite materialized. I think our Keystone Cop-like behavior threw John Brown off his game because he was nowhere near the action. Instead, he wore an expression on his face that said: "You bitches are crazy!"

The bug once again charged us. Fearing for our bare and flip-flopped feet respectively, Jess and I hopped around unwilling and unable to just squash the damn thing. So it ran under the couch and disappeared. We tried locating him but he effectively camouflaged himself among the boxes and other brick-a-brack.

After several minutes, we decided to resume watching the movie. But we remained vigilant. Our eyes darted in every direction and we twitched at the slightest perceived movements.

About an hour later, the fucker resurfaced and began climbing up the wall behind Jess.

"There it is!" I exclaimed.

Once again, we relied on John Brown's hunting skills. Not content to wait for John Brown to spot the r-o-a-c-h himself, Jess scooped him up and waved him in the direction of it. Secure in the belief that the dirty wee fuck was in his crosshairs, Jess let go of her trusty cat so that the killing could commence.

Instead, John Brown shook himself off indignantly, gave Jess a look that said, "What the fuck's your problem, woman?" and then jumped off the couch.

We cursed at John Brown and then looked at each other helplessly knowing that we were again left to our own pathetic devices.

But then Jess took control.

"Hand me the Glass Plus!" she commanded. She then proceeded to saturate the bug so much that it lost its footing and slipped off the wall. Inspired by her bravery, I grabbed a sneaker and was all ready to flatten the little shit but it ran behind the couch before I could reach it and once again disappeared.

At this point, the Yuenglings and Rolling Rocks had kicked in so we finally succumbed to that "Oh, fuck it!" attitude that accompanies a good buzz. Besides, Who's The Boss? just came on Nick at Nite and we had to direct our murderous rage at a more deserving recipient -- Tony Danza.