I was on the old patio with Saima the other night.
“Oh my God, look at that giant cockroach,” she says.
“Shit…” I contemplate. “That is a big fucker.”
I grab a broom and scoop him/her out into the open. I had on some slippers and I didn’t want to fuck them up. This fucker was huge.
“How should I kill this thing?” I wondered.
I saw some spare cardboard lying around. This would cover the roach, then I could step on it without having to worry about ruining my slips. So I grab a piece and cover the roach up.
After a few seconds of contemplation, I finally stepped on it. You should have heard this sound. It was absolutely fucking crazy. You probably could have heard it in Colorado.
“Man, that was gross,” the lady said.
I picked up the cardboard slowly for some reason, as if this thing could have regenerated or something. Alas, it couldn’t. This fucker was dead. But do you know what I saw when I picked up this cardboard? Imagine yourself stepping on a Boston cream donut – chocolate frosting with sweet yellow pudding in the center. Now imagine what one of those would look liked smashed.
Go ahead, take your time.
That’s what it looked like. Yellow fucking cream pudding shot out all around it.
“Oh my God, what the fuck was that?” I ask.
The lady wanted no part of it but I finally talked her into giving it a glance after a few minutes. I then got on my knees to give it a closer look.
The pudding stuff actually looked like a bunch of eggs or something. It appears that I killed a giant pregnant cockroach – genocidal abortion at its finest! But I didn’t want these magic eggs to hatch… so what could a brother do?
The Dying Fetus (May, 2009)
The only thing he knows how – pouring lighter fluid on it and setting it ablaze. Poor thing never knew what was coming.