08/13/01 -- Page Three: A Date With Death

(Horrifying newspaper rustling sound again)

"AUUUGGGHHH!"

"AAAAUGGGHH!!"

"It's under the newspapers! How can it be that loud? It should be dead already!"

"Just whack the newspaper!"

"It's under the futon. I'm not going over there. It'll come bite my foot."

"Roaches don't have teeth."

"It might have grown some since we sprayed it."

"This is stupid. Just go kill it already!"

"You're trying to kill me. That's what this is about. You're trying to kill my cat and kill me and take my duplex. You should just ask."

You may kill one of us, but we are many and we are pissed.

"Hurry! It's gonna get away!"

"I am not going over there. Seriously. We'll just have to hire someone."

"Take your shoe. Go over there. Hit the newspaper."

"It's moving again!"

(half-hearted, weak whack)

"I think I got him!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! I hit him and he -- AUGUGGGGHHHH!! He's still moving!"

"KILL IT!"

"What the FUCK!?! Why won't he die?"

"BECAUSE YOU WON'T FUCKING WHACK HIM!"

(crazy, wild whacking)

"(panting) I think... I killed it."

"I think you did."

"He's not moving. And he's flat now."

"Yeah. You killed it."

"You see? I'm tough like that. That's right, roach! Bugs better never fuck with me!"

"Throw it out."

"Do what?"

"Get rid of it."

"What, me?"

"Yes. You."

"It's not enough that I killed the beast? Now I have to perform its burial?"

"Well I'm not doing it."

"(mumble mumble)"

(paper towel, squeamish picking up of roach)

"Here! Look!"

"AIII! Get it away!"

"Yeah, now you're all scared. You see how I felt?"

"Just go flush it."