Tales of boys and bugs - Part 1

Reading Serenity's recent adventures with mosquitoes (and her distaste for cockroaches, which I wholeheartedly share) reminded me of two incidents involving my ex-husband and the lovely, nuclear-repellent roaches.

When Matt and I met in 1996, he had only lived in Atlanta for about two weeks. He was a born and bred Ohio boy, and it took some time for him to adjust to certain aspects of The South: heat, humidity, killer thunderstorms and gargantuan bugs. I guess in Ohio you've got your garden variety 'roaches,' while here in the South, we've got this bigger, badder version (kinda like roaches on steroids) called Palmetto Bugs.

Matt's first summer in Atlanta was an adventure for him, to say the least. There was a weekend shortly after we met where we decided to "take a break." The morning after this discussion, I get a call from him.

"Where were you when I needed you last night?"
"Um, I was out with Julie. Why?"
"Well, you can come over if you want. On one condition...."
"Uh, okay... what's that?"
"Bring a can of Raid. The industrial strength stuff."

A couple hours later when I arrived at his apartment, I found him staring intently at a corper of the room, near the ceiling. There sat a Palmetto Bug. And not just any Palmetto Bug - we're talking the mother of all, the Queen Bee, the Big Kahuna. This mo-fo was MASSIVE. Literally about 4 inches long, and nearly an inch across at it's widest point.

Apparently the night before, Matt was sitting on the couch watching TV, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. When he turned to look, he saw "The Beast." He immediately leapt onto the couch and attempted to swat it down, at which point it turned tail and HISSED at him. This was, apparently, a novel reaction from a bug. Those wussy lil roaches in Ohio don't do this! What's up with these Southern bugs? He then got a can of Raid from the kitchen, and sprayed... nay, DOUSED the Beast with it. Still, nothing. It just continued to hiss. As he tried to swat it again, it then extended it's wings, and FLEW across the room, escaping death yet again. This pattern continued on for 45 minutes or so, at which point Matt opted to barricade himself in the bedroom until the next day.

Once I arrived, a chase ensued, lasting for what seemed an hour. At one point, this Palmetto was so drenched in chemicals, that his shell was literally BUBBLING (let's keep in mind - they say the only things on Earth that would survive a nuclear war are cockroaches and Twinkies). At this point, even though I had lived in the South for 7 years, and had survived other encounters with these creatures, I was beginning to grow nervous. But we were, little by little, wearing him down. His pace began to slow, and he had lost his ability to fly (that, or his wings were simply to soaked to unfurl anymore). Finally he tried to hide himself behind the bedroom door. He was cornered. He cowered in shame as the shoe heel came down to crack his shell.

However, it was the roach that had the last laugh - there was a brown smear of sludge against the white wall. I am certain that, to this day, that smear is still there. If Raid didn't destroy that thing, I'm certain mere latex paint is no match.