Horrors of the night

They came with no warning, silently approaching from all directions in the night. By the time I realized what was happening, they were already besieging my home by the hundreds. Where they came from I do not know. They came in small groups, familial units perhaps. In each group there was a large dominant one, in each case it was near impossible for me to distinguish its gender. Following each large, red-armored leader was a small horde of followers of various sizes and shades of brown and maroon.

The smaller ones tended to scatter as I approached, scurrying for cover of darkness in corners or under anything beneath which they could squeeze. The dominate ones were more defiant, staring at me with the confidence of a creature that knows it is nearly invincible to even the most potent of weapons in a civilian’s arsenal.

The largest, perhaps having attained at some point the rank of general, now stood before me, his red shell nearly glowing like the dying coals of an old fire. He stood motionless, only his antennae twitching slightly as he received information from all around him. He then took one slight step toward me; malice written clearly across is tiny face. I made my move, swinging the canister from behind my back. If he knew of what I held, he showed no fear of it. I let go a stream of light foam, drenching his winged body.

In their corners his minions rose up high on their spindly legs to gape in horror at the ill fate of their leader as he soon succumbed to the chemical’s harsh effects. Death was not imminent, however, and the leader turned to beat a swift retreat. I followed quickly, shooting more poison at his fleeing back. In a fast arc I sprayed the cowering followers, for the smaller death was instantaneous, but many of the larger joined their general in painful scrambles for safety.

Determined to extinguish this plague that had invaded the sanctuary of my home I pursued the raiders in mad fury, dowsing them in chemical foam whenever they were within reach. Slowly their numbers diminished as slow death overtook one after another, leaving only their once-brave leader to make a final stand. He held out as long as he could, but the slow creep of the poison began to paralyze his legs. Death eventually came to the general, yet he remained defiantly staring up toward my position.

I made a quick sweep of my home, ensuring there were no survivors. I swept the remains into a single plastic bag, tied it off and left it for collection. Even as I placed the general into his final resting place and consigned him to history, he stared at me with a mixture of hate, admiration and confusion. Even in death he did not fully comprehend or accept his defeat.

So ended the cockroach raid.