A beautiful Kafka-tastrophe
A beautiful Kafka-tastrophe
Trying saying that 5 times fast. Oh and, this post is about roaches, the 90s, cops, exorcism, racoons, meth and Jesus sandals. Lot going on here
I feel stupid…and contagious
It was a Green Day, everything smelled like Teen Spirit, and the world had withered away to four Non-Blondes, Two Princes, and one Blind Melon. Welcome to the early '90s, when yours truly was in college, doing what I do best—procrastinating.
It was finals week, and I was predictably stressed out, cramming a semester’s worth of information into my brain in the wee hours before exams.
Unfortunately for me, there’s a very limited amount of information that I can absorb before my brain says, “toodles.” That saturation point for me hit around 2 a.m., when I passed out cold on my bed, unconscious, surrounded by study notes and unread books.
The college dorms were old and cavernous— raw cement blocks, dirty linoleum, the faint smell of regret. Every noise echoed like I was sleeping in an empty parking garage. A pen drop sounded like a steel pipe hitting the floor. Not ideal for a light sleeper like me.
At precisely 4:15 a.m., I heard a faint click-click in the echo chamber known as my dorm room. I opened my eyes to see a big, fat cockroach crawling across the ceiling. This Kafka-sequel prehistoric monster had slithered in through the cracks in the aforementioned cement blocks and decided to go full Lionel Richie—dancing on the ceiling. I froze, praying it wouldn’t fall.
Spoiler alert: it fell.
It landed squarely on my chest with a solid slap. So there I was, lying in bed with a roach ON me. Did I mention that I hate roaches? I HATE roaches. HATE. HATE. HAAAATTTEEE.
It may have flown into my hair. I don’t have hair anymore, and now you know why. I may have let out a masculine man-scream.
The next day, rumors spread throughout campus about some little girl screaming in terror at—what a coincidence— exactly 4:15 a.m. Thirty years later, I’m still in therapy for roach trauma and I’ve yet to live down the scream.
Like a Cadbury Creme Egg
Why are we horrified by something so tiny? One stomp and they’re gone, but there’s that awful pop, and suddenly, there are gooey guts everywhere. It’s not just gross; it’s existentially horrifying. I can tell you this from a very recent personal experience that involves my toes and roach guts resembling what a smushed Evil Cadbury Egg would look like. Ewww.
But I digress. Psychologist Paul Rozin did a study on disgust in which he dunked a “sterilized” cockroach into a glass of juice and then offered said glass of juice to study participants. Even though the roach was “sterile”, and the juice was purportedly “uncontaminated”, nobody would drink it. (Except for that one guy who thought, “I seen a Tick Tack that says roach juice is packed with proteins and cures Covid.” (Please Refer to: Trust Issues with Humanity.).
If your brain needs more science and data about roaches being the most disgusting thing on the planet (and I know some of you have them as pets, and you deserve to be microwaved in aluminum for doing so) then look no further, I have your fully researched data right here, roaches are an abomination from Hell. #FACTS
A (literal) walk in Jesus shoes
Long ago, after a wine-filled evening early in our dating tenure, Heather and I were walking home from the local watering hole. Heather was in her typical summer outfit of shorts and Jesus sandals. She loves those sandals.
When I say “She loves those sandals”, this is not an exaggeration. She wears them everywhere for every type of event. Hiking? Jesus Sandals. Hot Date? Jesus Sandals. Wedding? Jesus Sandals. Snow Skiing? Yep, you guessed it, Jesus Sandals.
One day when the strap broke on her left “Air Jesus”, I thought “finally, now maybe she’ll buy some sexy shoes like some Louboutins or something (besides Lou Bees already have those pointed heels so you can just stabbaroach straight in the heart should one come at you).
But did she buy a pair of sexy Louboutins for the sole enjoyment of her then-boyfriend while simultaneously trying to balance herself and walk in 12” heels? Nope, after the strap broke, she went straight to Ebay and found the only other pair of Jesus Sandals in existence, second hand, from a seller in Dresser, Wisconsin. True to form, Heather bartered with the seller to get free shipping and used 12 coupon codes to get an extra 5% off of a pair of shoes that are already marked down to $4.99 but hey she got free shipping and I got to hear about it for 3 days straight. Suffice it to say, she loves her holy sandals with their heavenly soles.
But I got off track… back to the night where we were walking home from a few glasses of wine. We were navigating the unlit streets in our neighborhood because apparently our tax dollars had better things to do than pay for streetlights. It was unnervingly dark and quiet, one of those rare moments where you start talking about deep, serious things.
Heather stopped along the walk, turned to me, and proclaimed, “I get you, Thigpen.”
It was one of those events where time slows down. She stared into my eyes, and I knew she was waiting for me to say something profound and meaningful in return. Something deep, something that would solidify the whole soulmate thing. Meanwhile in my brain:
Of course, because I’m a man and emotional competence is not a gift bestowed upon us lesser stellar beings (stop editing my article, Heather!), I just stared blankly back at her, completely lost in the expectation of greatness.
And that’s when it happened. A roach—because they love to ruin lives—came out of nowhere, crawling between Heather’s foot and her Celestial sandals.
The scream started at around 130 decibels (db) which is on par with the sound of a jet taking off. But within seconds Heather’s throat pipes jumped to a 194db which is considered the upper limit for sound in air before it becomes physically destructive.
To put it in layman’s terms, it was like 5000 Jamie Lee Curtises (Curtisii??) simultaneously screaming like she did in the 1978 horror movie, Halloween.
Also, Heather doesn’t run or participate in any form of exercise intentionally. Her cardio routine typically involves spooning chunks of dark chocolate Häagen-Dazs into her mouth. But that night, she sprinted down the street like she was road runner qualifying for the Olympics (Spoiler alert: she qualified. In fact, she overqualified and now is just known as “hashtag Fastest” around these parts). Had there been water, her holy sandals would have easily glided across it.
Meanwhile, I continued to stand there, dumbfounded, replaying the "I get you" moment in my head, and realizing that not saying, "I get you, too," was probably the dumbest thing I’d ever done. So, naturally, I started running after her, shouting, "I GET YOU! I GET YOUUUUU!" But because I’m from Alabama and have a southern accent it sounded like “I’LL GET YOU!”
Claw and Order: Doughnut Resist
As a preface, when I met Heather, she seemingly had several “friends” who might have been interested in being more than friends. One of these was the local beat cop, who I cleverly called Deputy Dog.
This guy regularly drove by on his beat and slowed as he passed our house, watching and glaring at me with distrust. Or so I presumed. What reason did he have to trust the new guy with the beard and tattoos, and a minivan?
(It was a Ferrari not a minivan, Heather and I’m taking away your editing privileges on this article!)
Anyway, back to our story. Heather’s roach-induced screams lit up the neighborhood, and right on cue, Deputy Dawg showed up—lights flashing, tires screeching, eyes glaring. I was screwed. Going down to the station for being a bearded tattooed dude (who does not drive a minivan) chasing the fair damsel in her kicks of Christ. This was it.
Except. In his rush to save Heather from… well, me and whatever he thought was happening… Dawg ran over the much-beloved neighborhood cat, Bisquik, as she streaked across the street in front of the police cruiser.
There was a distinct thump, followed by silence. Deputy Dawg stepped out of his car, took one look at Bisquik, and burst into tears. Turns out the guy’s a massive cat lover. Go figure.
He was inconsolable and was already calling the Sheriff to give up his badge out of remorse and guilt. We sat and looked at Bisquik, and I realized with horrified amusement that she’d obviously eaten corn sometime earlier, before meeting Dawg’s Michelin star rated tire. Deputy Dawg sobbed inconsolably. I stood there observing the situation and then an image formed in my head:
I reached down and awkwardly patted Dawg on the back while he sobbed. “There, there,” I mumbled. “Bisquik’s in a better place now, with Jesus…and his first pair of sandals.” We both looked at the still body of the cat- Dawg was wracked with guilt while I was randomly thinking Bisquik might have been in such a rush to cross the street because she was desperately searching for a litter box after mistaking corn for actual food.
And then the unthinkable happened. Dawg threw his arms around me, sobbing even harder. I have severe personal space issues that send me into a very dark place when touched. I started to panic. Dawg unknowingly hugged tighter. Please see my personal space issues chart below:
I slithered out of Deputy Dawg’s arms and said “I need to take care of my girlfriend over there. She was assaulted by a roach tonight”. Dawg solemnly thanked me and then got back into the cruiser. I looked over at Bisquik one more time, just in time to see that she’d somehow survived and was making a full recovery!
Until Deputy Dawg put the cruiser in reverse… We had the official funeral for Bisquik a few days later.
The power of Christ compels you!
Eventually, I got Heather back home and into the house. She was traumatized. So I did what any good man would do, I called an exorcist. He suggested holy water. We didn’t have holy water, just La Croix, so I threw that on her. This just angered her and then she just hissed at me like a crazed (but really cute cat-like) vampire.
At this point, Heather placed a condition on staying in a non-platonic relationship with me: she’d only stay if I hired a SWAT team to monitor our house and surrounding neighborhood for roaches 24/7. Because I’m an artist and my salary is somewhere between zero and a negative integer, all I could afford were methed-out raccoons.
So now we don’t have roaches anymore, but there are hordes of trash pandas. A posse, if you will. And while that sounds all cute and fuzzy like, I think this woman would beg to differ:
…PATION
Roaches are the scourge of our existence and traumatize us like Tim Curry in multiple horror movies.
It’s been dry as hell here in Texas and I’ve been anxiously awaiting some rain to come our way. The heat and dry climate tends to send cockroaches indoors looking for food and water which in turn make my wife scream and leaves me having to stomp on them with my bare feet, supporting a never-ending my relationship with my therapist.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to bulk buy a bunch of Bengal ™️ Roach Spray.
Citations
Green Day: Pioneers of 1990s punk rock revival with hits like "Basket Case" and "American Idiot."
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Day4 Non Blondes: Known for their iconic 1992 hit "What's Up?"
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/4_Non_BlondesNirvana: Revolutionized grunge with their album Nevermind and single "Smells Like Teen Spirit."
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nirvana_(band)Spin Doctors ("Two Princes" band): Best known for their 1993 hit Two Princes; an alternative rock anthem of the '90s.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spin_DoctorsBlind Melon: Famous for their hit No Rain and its quirky bee-costumed music video.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blind_Melon
Kafka: Czech author known for his surreal, existential works like The Metamorphosis and The Trial.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franz_KafkaLionel Richie "Dancing on the Ceiling": Richie famously defied gravity in this 1986 hit video.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dancing_on_the_Ceiling_(Lionel_Richie_song)Paul Rozin: Psychologist known for his research on disgust and cultural differences in food preferences.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_RozinChristian Louboutin shoes story: The famous red sole was inspired by red nail polish, transforming his shoes into a symbol of luxury.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christian_LouboutinDresser, Wisconsin conspiracy theory: This small town is rumored to be home to a mysterious government operation.
Link: https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/dresser-wisconsin-conspiracy-theories"Trust Issues with Humanity": A look at modern-day mistrust and skepticism in human interaction.
Link: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/letting-go-attachment/202304/trust-issues-with-humanity194 dB: The theoretical loudest sound possible in Earth’s atmosphere, beyond which sound would destroy itself.
Link: https://www.decibelpro.app/blog/what-is-194-decibels/Jamie Lee Curtis, Halloween’s Scream Queen: She earned the title from her iconic role in Halloween, revitalizing the horror genre.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halloween_(1978_film)Sofía Vergara: Colombian-American actress known for her role as Gloria Delgado-Pritchett on Modern Family, which earned her multiple award nominations.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sof%C3%ADa_Vergara
Tamala 2010: A Punk Cat in Space: Cult anime film blending dystopian themes with punk aesthetics and a space-faring cat.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tamala_2010:_A_Punk_Cat_in_Space
Link to full movie on YouTube.Raccoons carry rabies: Raccoons are a primary carrier of rabies in the United States.
Link: https://www.cdc.gov/rabies/exposure/animals/wildlife.htmlWoman calls 911 over 100s of raccoons: A bizarre case where a woman reported being overwhelmed by hundreds of raccoons.
Link: https://nypost.com/2021/12/29/woman-overrun-by-hundreds-of-raccoons-in-canada-calls-911/Tim Curry in IT: Curry's portrayal of Pennywise the clown is a defining moment in horror cinema.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It_(1990_miniseries)Tim Curry in Rocky Horror Picture Show: As Dr. Frank-N-Furter, Curry created an enduring cult classic role.
Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rocky_Horror_Picture_ShowTim Curry post-stroke humor: After his stroke, Curry uses humor in public appearances, showing his resilience.
Link: https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/64383/tim-curryBengal Roach Spray conspiracy: Some speculate about hidden ingredients or corporate cover-ups related to Bengal Roach Spray.
Link: https://skeptics.stackexchange.com/questions/45610/are-there-issues-with-the-bengal-insecticide-spray
🤣 Ha! Love this storytelling. 🤩
Thig you are hilarious!!!! I laughed so loud my dog stopped and stared at me 🤣