House of flying cockroach

Buzz. I turned and I saw the cockroach. Fear was in the air.

My best defense was the can of insecticide. I reached for it immediately. Spam.

Torrents of chemicals came bursting forth from the nozzle.

And still it ran.

It refused to give in, battling against the poison that choked and consumed it. Struggling to find freedom, it escaped into the shadows underneath my bed.

Argh. Had to find it lest it crawls into my ears and lays eggs. ( A story I heard from my mum who heard from her friend that her son wa hearing rattling noises in his eyes, and they turned out to be cockroach nymphs.)

I shifted my bed aside and found it.

Victory was near. I saw it on its back, faced upwards. The toxic was killing it slowly, but surely.

the ordeal was over. I hate cockroaches. They look so big and scary when they fly. yucks.

The victor parades and flaunts his trophy. His prized 'catch'.