n'est pas

metamorphilosophizing
There is a cockroach loose somewhere in my room. God knows where- last I saw it (around eleven-thirty, twelve I believe) the creature had attached itself to the part of my bedspread where the spread itself meets the fringe and the fringe sweeps the floor. Meaning to say it didn't make it very far up the bed but was instead saving it's energy to hang on for dear life, even when halfheartedly swatted at by the business end of one iron power cord.
I stared at the roach for a second, unsure as how to proceed. I didn't want to chase it (as I was on my way out the door). I didn't think I could handle the crunch of a demolished exoskeleton, either, not when my stomach was already a bit off-kilter. I considered remedying the situation in the same manner as the strange bathroom ant infestation of 5?a.m.- 9 a.m., A Week Ago 2004 and dampen the area with ant and roach spray. It certainly deterred that particular bunch of wayward ants, but ants are not exactly the toughest of species. Sure, they can lift an apple like something crazy but one shoe to an antbed and the motherfuckers scatter like hide and seek.
Have you ever wondered whether you would be the sole survivor of an apocalyptic situation? No, of course not. Because it's not the lone John or Mary of Darrin Stevens of the apolcalypse, it's the lone cockroach of the apolcalypse. And if cockroaches can survive nuclear devastation/earth freezing over/four magical evil horsemen, certainly the product developers at Raid had not made a substance that could effectively finish this tiny creature so immersed in man's filth and castoff that it has become immune to what kills us off en masse. And I certainly didn't want to deal with the temper tantrum of a bug aggravated by irritants.
So I let it remain where it was, and left the house. I figure it's made it's way out by now if it's not still plowing through a barely organized pile of "receipts for write-offs, 2004." I’m messy but I don't leave food sitting around, mostly because in order to leave food sitting around one would first have to own food, and my one meal a day (give or take a light breakfast) is most often consumed at or around work.
I like to think that by letting roaches live I will be responsible for saving the life of the one chosen for apocalypse survival duty.
I wonder what a roach would do all day in such a devastated, barren landscape. I would imagine a fair amount of scuttling, that is until yet another fish crawls out of the ooze, evolves into man, and man in turns invents the second generation of shoe.