Cockroaches & Power Failures

Cockroaches and power failures are two things symptomatic of summers in Karachi... I think it's the heat and humidity that attract both of them. The power failure is by far more destructive, causing daily losses to businesses, industries, body fluids and tempers. The cockroach, however, is not to be taken lightly. Sudden appearances when least expected cause moments of concern, frustration and, in my case, mind numbing fear.

The other evening (10 pm or so) I was lying in bed sweating away (my air conditioner wouldn't work because the supply voltage was too low at the time), rereading the riveting last few pages of Angels & Demons by Dan Brown. By the way, Deception Point and Digital Fortress are a complete waste of your money, time and plasma. They are as bad as The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons are good. Anyway, heat, sweat, low voltage, suspense in the Vatican. I just had to take my t-shirt off (calm down ladies). So I'm lying there in my shorts when out of the corner of my eye I see something on the wall to my right. Shadow? Satanic symbol? Cockroach?

Cockroach!

I kid you not. This thing was at least 2 inches long, brown as a brown Crayola crayon and must have had a span of an inch and a half. *shudder* Its 64 legs... alright, there were only 8, stretched lazily and its antennae waved gently with such arrogance that I was immediately cowed. Three options:

1. Ignore it. Yes, like you ignore a Cat 5 hurricane.
2. Kill it. But that would mean getting close to it.
3. Leave the room. But what if it's there when I come back?? *sob*

Anyway, lying there wasn't helping matters. I needed to be on my feet, senses alert, reaction time minimal. Gingerly, I slid my feet off the side of the bed. No sudden moves. Slippers on. Eyes on the enemy. Up. Slide around to the side of the bed away from the intruder. Take stock of situation. Analyze strengths and weaknesses. Cockroach near door. Open door so cockroach can flee? Only person with room on second floor of house is me. Feasible. Crawl to door. Door open. Cockroach observes silently. Clearly a tough customer. Been here before. Re-establish safe distance. Commence stare down. The cockroach moved. But it didn't use its legs. Or its antennae. It used its WINGS.

Flying cockroach!

Why me? Oh, give me a wingless cockroach over this beast any day! *sigh* Suddenly, with no shirt on, I felt exposed. The cockroach had respositioned itself on the same wall. What if the thing flew at me?? 10 seconds later, t-shirt back on. I felt braver. But not by much. No long poles or brooms nearby. No insecticde either. What to do? Shoes? Shoe?

Shoe!

I picked up one of my running shoes and weighed in my mind the best way to go about this. Long distance throw of deadly accuracy? Cavalry charge of inconceivable horror?
Quick math: Cavalry Charge = Getting close to cockroach = Long distance throw.

I pulled my arm behind my head, my massive brain performing a million calculations of trajectory and velocity. An instant before I started my arm forward on its noble mission, I went blind. Blackness. Nothingness. Had I fainted? Was I dead? No.

Power failure!

So, here I am, in pitch darkness, running shoe in right hand still cocked behind my head and a vile, cunning enemy with powers of flight mere feet away from me.

If I stay still, it won't know where I am.

Thirty seconds later

Aaaaaa! I don't know where it is!

Make way to table. Feel around blindly for small emergency torch/flashlight. Torch/flashlight located. Move back to safe distance from last known location of the enemy. Suddenly switch on and beam light towards wall. No cockroach. Beam light frantically around room. There's the beast! In the tiny nook between the wall and my open door.

I'm fairly confident I could have held the light with one hand and thrown my shoe with the other, but the consequences of missing the target were now too great. The moster had too many conditions in his favor and too many places to hide. I needed reinforcements. I went downstairs and recruited my father. "There's a cockroach in my bedroom," I said nonchalantly, "can you hold the torch while I kill it?" My father, to his credit, did not tell me to grow up and kill my insects independently. He followed me upstairs.

Now armed with a spray pump of insecticide (procured from the ever-equipped mother), I stepped cautiously back into the room. My father followed, and shone the light where we thought the cockroach would be. Gone. It could be anywhere! I started spraying insecticide wildly, hoping to lure it out while I had support. We found it on my door, blending in perfectly with the varnished wood. Clever, but not clever enough. With my father, stage manager, providing the spotlight, I got as close as I dared and sprayed a mist of sweet sweet insecticide all over the creature.

The thing was on the run. It's flight capabilities were immediately impaired by the fast acting drug. It scampered across the floor sending shoes (mine, with me still in them) in all directions. More spray. AGH! STOMP STOMP STOMP.

Flying cockroach guts everywhere!

Relief. Invasion quashed. Invader squashed. Still working with the torch/flashlight, we fashioned a rough scoop from a couple of newspapers and deposited the body outside, to be taken later by our cleaner, or by beasts of the wild.

The power was still out, and would be for a while. But we had fought the good fight against at least one threat to civilization tonight. And we had won. We had won.

This war was over.