I was making fried rice for my bento last night when I realized George's grand kids are back, trying to assert their squatter's rights to my apartment.
There was Phoebe, as bold as can be sauntering across the stove hood. I couldn't use my usual method of attack - the paralyzing spray as I was worried about immobilizing myself by spraying my lunch. I looked for something to scoop up Phoebe so as to escort her to a watery grave, but when I looked back Phoebe was gone. Assuming she had escaped through a crack to regale her siblings and cousins with her daring deed of revenge against me. Little did I know she had sacrificed herself for an even greater case of revenge.
I'm sure you can see where this is going even if I didn't see anything till went to take my second bite of fried rice and saw Phoebe - antennas waving defiantly even in death.
Needless to say I went to the conbini for a new lunch and stopped on my way home for reinforcements. Last year I put out lots of cockroach traps last year and they seemed to work. I'm not going to take Phoebe's suicide attack lightly - this is war!
(I went to put a trap under the sink and discovered I had inadvertently squashed Phoebe's big brother, Gentle Jim, a sweet-natured but rather slow guy. He had gotten sandwiched in between the bottom of the cupboard door and the cupboard... FLUSH! Two down... however million left to go...