Laundry. That's how it all started this time. I was doing my laundry. I opened the dryer and felt fear grip me. I slammed the door. Who expects to see a cockroach in the dryer? How did it even get there? How long had it been there? I had no clue what to do. I thought it might be too big for the vacuum tube to suck it up. So I called. I called Mom, I called friends from the branch. A couple of my friends suggested I turn on the dryer and let it cook or shake or something to death. Mom suggested that might reek. After much deliberation I decided on a plan. I grabbed a wet rag and decided to throw it over the top, then I thought I'd carefully squeeze the corners together, wrap it up and put something heavy on it that was not my foot.
There was just one problem. I missed. Up to this point the cockroach had been lying on its back, frantically waving its legs around. The rag came close, maybe even too close because the insect grabbed onto it with its leg and flipped himself over. I was frightened that I threw my shoe at it and ran away. I got about five steps into the garage when I realized I'd just given it a chance to escape, so I ran back in determined to shut the door on it or something. I peeked inside and it wasn't moving, so I ran for the vacuum, turned it on and, fortunately, it was small enough to fit inside the tube. After another quick phone call I decided I needed to dump it down the toilet. I did. Then I flushed. 5 times.
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