The roach world, while it resembles ours, and exists in ours, is a separate part of the universe. God originally was going to make roaches the intelligent beings on earth and then changed his mind. That‘s why roaches can be chased, sprayed and killed but never eliminated. Let‘s look around the roach world for a bit.
It‘s a constant search for food in a world of large creatures trying to kill you. It‘s like living in a cave where there not only isn‘t any indoor plumbing but no outhouse either. It‘s unpleasant. It‘s the way we humans started. Roaches never got beyond it and we did. Roaches don‘t really care. They don‘t really know. All they know is we came up with containers with lids to make their life a little more miserable. The eason we hate roaches, besides the way they look, is the fact that we don‘t know where they‘ve been walking. Roaches know exactly where they‘ve been and what they been walking in. They also are totally immune to every disease, bacteria and virus- including all the ones we cooked up in our former germ warfare labs. The Army, denying we ever did it, tested all the germs on monkeys and roaches. The monkeys all died and the roaches came back for seconds. We should have studied their immune systems instead.
“That wasn‘t our mandate. We wanted to kill not a cure”, General Clark always said. He didn‘t ever think outside of the box.
We always say, “There‘s a roach scurrying around. Quick! Kill it.”
We can‘t catch it much less kill it. On those rare occasions we accidentally step on one, crunching it with our shoe or, worse, our bare feet, we yell out, “Ew!” We always feel queasy about squashing a roach without thinking how the roach must feel.
The roah hopes to find the crumbs since the containers are impossible to open. They like your little children and your teenagers more than you do, a lot more than you do. The kids always leave crumbs around. Find a home with a teenager and you find a home with a roach problem and a teenager problem. The teenager problem is another story. You‘re not allowed to step on them. You can‘t poison them either; you‘d die too.
Roaches, like vampires, hate the light and love the dark. Open your cupboard and the roaches scatter. So do you. Your teenager doesn‘t notice them. He, or she, is used to them. They think they‘re cute. They think they are an interactive decoration. Your son keeps on in a jar on his desk next to the petrified gecko and the ex-snake.
You get up in the middle of the night to get a snack. As you walk through the kitchen you hear crunching sounds. You turn on the light to see dead and dying roaches. That‘s bad enough. Worse is that the crunching you heard had to be you stepping on some of them. ou have dead roaches on your feet. You run to the bathroom and wash your feet for an hour. Then you remember you didn‘t get your snack. You go to get some cookies for a snack and notice that your teenager has left the lid off again. After eating the second cookie you see the dead roach. You run to the bathroom and lose your cookies. Fido steals the rest of the cookies and the dead roach and eats them. He doesn‘t mind the roach or where it was walking before it got into the house. He eats crap when he finds it.
The pest control guy was careful not to say he could prevent roaches from getting into the house. That wasn‘t possible. Controlling them was an achievement in and of itself. It was also impossible but he had to make a living.
“I will spray and set up a barrier that no roach can survive”, he tells you. He tells you that knowing full well he‘s lying. He only claims he can prevent their appearance and his chemicals will work. No, they can‘t. The roaches don‘t know it and come in.No, they won‘t survive. They will come in and browse around. They will get into things. They will be on your floor. Not a real barrier. Yes, they die, eventually. You know that from all the roach corpses. You also wonder about all the little corpses you don‘t find. Eating all your meals out comes to mind. Then you realize that roaches don‘t know the difference between a house and a restaurant. You don‘t know how careful the cooks are. Hmm, eating out just lost something.
Every roach is told at birth, “Find a home with a teenager and enjoy it while you lasts.”
Willie and the Cab
The other day Willie Williams was arrested soon after a series of armed robberies. Willie did it for the money, of course. Why else?The how he did was interesting. Willie had a car but didn‘t know where it was. He couldn‘t remember where he had parked it. He walked aroun his neighborhood without spotting it. He thought that , maybe, someone had stolen it. Then he decided he wasn‘t real sure he remembered what it looked like. Willie Williams had more than a few problems and blank spots in life. This day he was going to add a few more. They were going to be real beauties.
First he decided he had to have transportation. You don‘t walk all over West Ashley holding up people. You don‘t use a bus either. Without a car, Willie was low on options as well as brains. Willie called for a cab. “I needs a cab. I gots me some errands ta run.”
You would think that after the first robbery or at least after the second one the cabbie would have figured out what was happening. He drop Willie off someplace, be told to wait for him and, suddenly, Willie would cone running out to the cab, jump in and yell, “Go..”He claims otherwise. That makes him too stupid to be a cabbie or an accomplice. That part hasn‘t been sorted out yet but the DA is going withthe accomplice for now. He feels he has to get him on something.
Willie‘s last robbery was a cell phone store. There was a candy shop next door and a dry cleaner on the other side. Both might logically have cash. The term logically was something that Willie never heard of. The cell phone store would likely not have any. Willie knew better. He knew that the two employees had wallets and any customers probably would too. Willie wasn‘t into thinking big.
The cell phone store employee hit the alarm button when Willie pulled out his knife and demanded money. The cops were across the street at Willie‘s last robbery. They made it to the store before the cabbie even got his cab started. They got there before anyone so much as got their wallet out. The delivery man , one of the victims, told the cops not to let the cab leave since the robber was the passenger. Yep, Willie was sitting there in the back calmly rifling through the wallets he had stolen at the last robbery and holding the computer he‘ stolen at the first one.. One of the cops told him to get out of the cab.
“No”, Willie responded.
Cops don‘t like to be told no. They usually only ask once too. Two cops grabbed Willie and dragged him out of the cab. Each cop had a hold of one of Willie‘s arms. They had the situation under control. Then Willie made some sort of move and the cops were holding his jacket. They looked stultified. The other twenty cops slammed Willie quickly to the ground. Hard, real hard. Willie took offense and the fighting started. Willie lost of course. 20-1, he wasn‘t going to win this one. He did, however put up a good battle until one of the cops stuck his gun in Willie‘s mouth and told him the fight was over.
Yep, Willie took a cab to a robbery.
Getting Flaky Along the Edges
Tommy Ashford was feeling a little flaky along the edges. He go the feeling that the problems people had were overwhelming him. When that happened he had a place he went to for a rest. Sometimes he‘d be gone a couple of days and sometimes a couple of weeks. Tommy Ashford was a psychiatrist. He was very good and very popular.
He didn‘t start out to be a psychiatrist. He sort of fell into it. As an intern he did his tours of all the various services. He started in the emergency room; on a Saturday night; on a busy night. His first patient was a guy who reminded him of the Jim Croce line, “looked like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone..”The guy had been sliced with a knife, a very sharp knife. Sliced a lot more than once. He looked like an autopsy in progress.
“I don‘t even know where to start with this guy.” he said to the nurse.
“I‘d suggest starting with the deeper ones and work your way up.” the nurse replied. She didn‘t really know but why tell this kid doctor that?
“Hope he dosn‘t bleed to death first..”Yea, wouldn‘t that look good on his record? One Patient, one death.
“Hey, I can hear all this!.” the patient hollered.
No, ER wasn‘t his cup of tea. Then he moved on to obstetrics. Women and their babies. That would be more like it. Tommy had a soft spot in his heart for babies. The babies were fine. It was the mothers he couldn‘t take. They screamed and yelled and cursed. Fine. Whatever helped them through this. What wasn‘t fine was that they screamed and yelled and cursed at him. He didn‘t get them pregnant. But they still hollered and screamed and cursed him. After a while, Tommy found himself cursing all pregnant women under his breath. Not a good attitude to a obstetrician.
“One advantage we have in surgery is that our patients are unconscious, at least when we see them. That‘s all that counts.” the Chief of Surgery told him when he reported to the surgical ward. The disadvantage was that they looked really awful, bled like te dickens, and sometimes died right there on the table. Then they‘d have to go into their emergency procedures to bring them back. Sort of like the emergency room and Tommy hated that.
“Do you always get them back?‘, he asked the surgeon.
“No. Sometimes we lose one. That‘s the way the cookie crumbles.”
That‘s the way the cookie crumbles? Yea, Tommy thought, guess it is. Guess this surgery thing isn‘t for me. Tommy thought the children‘s floor would be nice. He thought wrong. Kids could be little monsters. Sick kids could be real monsters. Then again, a sick kid has a right to be a monster. Tommy had the right not to be a pediatrician too. So he wasn‘t.
He finally settled on psychiatry when he realized there was no blood and no matter what he did, it was right or, at least, couldn‘t be proven wrong. One of Tommy‘s clients was complaining about being afraid to leave his closet door open at night.
“Now, doc, I know there‘s nothing in that closet to har me but I‘m still afraid something might be in there when it‘s dark.”
Tommy knew all the reasons for this fear and could eventually get to the root of it and help this client to lose his fear of closets at night. The thing was, Tommy would cut off his own right arm before he went into a dark closet at night. Great attitude for a psychiatrist. He knew why he was afraid. He was afraid of the dark. No reason, it just was.
“Doc, sometimes I think I‘m a bird.”
“Do you ever try to fly? Ever think about jumping off a roof and trying to fly away?”
“Nah, that‘s nuts.”
“I get all depressed when I wear the color blue. I really get down in the dumps.”
“Wear some other color. Green is a nice color.”
“But, I love blue. That‘s why I wear it all the time. I feel depressed all the time. Are you a therapist or a fashion designer?”
Yea, Tommy got a little flaky at times.
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