Cock Roaches

I know...cock roach is supposed to be one word. Well, you haven't seen a Louisiana Cajun Cock Roach before. These things are so big they need a first and last name.

Background information: as previously stated, I'm a Yankee. And the longer I'm down here, the prouder of that I become. In Yankee land, the only people who have cockroaches are dirty people. And I have to say--rather proudly--that I had never seen a cockroach before moving to Louisiana.

I saw my first Cock Roach the day I moved into housing. I sign for my newly renovated, freshly painted quarters still smelling of cleaners and floor wax and open up the linen closet to see the biggest beetle I have ever seen. This bug turns to look at me, stands up, holds out his hand and says, "Hello. I understand you're my new tenant. Pleased to meet you."

"JJJaaaaayyyyy!" I scream down the hall. DH dutifully comes running. "What is that?"I ask as I point to the bug. The beetle clears his throat and says, "Oh, pardon me. I'm Cock Roach. Mr. Cock Roach, that is. I apologize for the rest of the family not being here to greet you. They had to run some errands."

I tell DH to get it out of my house. He stands there looking at a bug every bit as big as my shoe and asks me what he's supposed to use to get it out. "I. DON'T. CARE. Just get it out." He uses his massive size 13 foot to nudge the thing towards the door. He finally gets it outside, when the bug starts running back towards the house yelling, "No, no, no--I don't think you underst--"

Crunch. Snap. Pop. Squish. DH stomps on it to keep it from darting back through the door. I am standing there frozen, my lunch about to come back up at the disgusting sound I just heard. DH doesn't look much better and informs me that he can feel the guts of one Mr. Cock Roach under his foot. "Not all of them," I say, and I point to the blood splatters that have shot out a good nine inches on either side of his huge foot.

I think we threw those shoes away.