Nighthawk vs The Cockroach

The Nighthawk, still healing his wounds from his battle with the Great Classroom Lizard, has just finished a hearty meal of Indian food. Like any man who has just finished a heart meal of Indian food the Nighthawk quickly heads to the bathroom. He never makes it to the toilet although the mass of digested food does nearly vacate his system in a fearful retreat…you know, like France. On his wall is not another lizard but a creepy, crawly cockroach! A creepy, crawly cockroach that upon first startled glance looks to be about the size of a gerbil. A creepy, crawly, squirmy gerbil with thin little creepy, crawly squirmy legs and creepy, crawly, squirmy feelers and…ahhh!!! The Nighthawk hates roaches!!!!! He has had many wars with these insect demons over the years starting back when he was a young child when there, in a back alley one night after a movie, a roach killed both his parents forever changing the path of his life. (Or was that Batman’s life?) Since then he has vowed to destroy all roaches that dare to cross his path. Many chose an early death when the Nighthawk resided in a dingy Toronto apartment. There, some nights, he was outnumbered by the hoards of attacking roach infantry but he valiantly fought onward to wipe out most invading armies. These battles would be known as the Welesley Roach Wars. When he moved away from this pit he called an apartment it appeared as though he had left the roach warriors behind him. He spent over two years in a new home, a new life and put the crawling creatures to rest in his mind. It was over. His great battle had come to an end. The roaches were gone.

Until tonight…

He glared at the large roach on his bathroom wall with a mute fascination that soon turned to rage. This thing was the largest roach he has ever seen. He likened it to when Ripley gets a good look at the Alien Queen. When you see roaches this size you never look at them the same way again. The bug obviously knew the Nighthawk was watching it, knew it had been caught the second the light had been flicked on. The Nighthawk looks around. Were there more of them? One roach usually means many roaches. Was he being set up for an ambush? He prepared. Unlike seeing the lizard two days previous he did not fell any fear after the initial shock wore off. All he felt now was hatred. Fuck Dharma Master, he thought, this thing is going down.

He remembered the bug spray he saw when he first moved in, how seeing that spray can gave him a sense of foreboding. Deep inside he knew this moment would one day come the second he spied that can underneath his sink. Now it was here. It was time to go to war once again. His enemy this time was a roach possibly in possession of some weapons training. He did not give the insect a chance to postulate a plan. He snatched the can and walked into the bathroom, spray flying from above his trigger finger, aiming at the roach who was now halfway up the wall trying to get to the air vent and freedom. Not today, thought the Nighthawk, and blasted the creature with a heavy spray so might in force that the roach was detached from the wall and hit the floor somewhere behind the toilet. Surly that was enough spray to wipe out an entire army of roaches back home. This thing had to be dead. Yet, like the silly soon to be hacked to pieces girl in a horror film, he had to check to make sure. He looked behind the toilet. Nothing there. No, this couldn’t be. It was dead! It had to be dead. He got on all fours in his small bathroom and looked more closely. He found nothing. The roach was gone. He checked the entire area behind the porcelain. Again, nothing. Vanished like a, well, like a roach in the night, this roach in the night had. He turned off the bathroom light now fully aware that somewhere in this apartment lurked this massive bug. It could be anywhere. As he was placing the canister of roach death (at least it should have been roach death to any normal bug…) on his countertop he spied the creature in the crack between the floor and the wall. Round two!

He grabbed the can and sprayed a long stream out onto the bug. The roach scurried away just in time to miss the blast which left foam on the wall. The Nighthawk aimed and fired again this time hitting the mark. The creature had been struck and was now wounded but still it crawled on trying to find any crevasse in which to disappear. The Nighthawk would not give it a chance. He set his sights and lowed the canister: “Astalavista, roachy!” He pulled the trigger. The spray pushed the bug a foot across the Nighthawk’s kitchen floor. The wound was now a mortal one. The roach did not have much time left. It was a fighter, this bug was. There on it’s back now watching its roach life pass before its eyes (garbage cans, wall cracks and countertops full of crumbs), the roach still struggled to get back on its legs and somehow crawl towards the light at the end of the tunnel. The Nighthawk couldn’t watch it suffer so. He pulled out his mountain walking stick and crushed the roaches head. It was over in an instant. The Nighthawk gathered up what was left of the corpse tossed it outside. When he came back inside he gave the bathroom one more check, satisfied that it was now roach free he turned off the light. He did not return his roach spray back under the sink wanting to leave it within close grasping range. Again, the spray can slinger of many roach wars knew…one roach means more roaches. The Nighthawk had a feeling that this battle was just beginning.

***If the above doesn't creep you out how about this video I found online searching for Japanese Cockroachs. Remind me to not stand anywhere near the sewers on the train platforms anymore. YIKES!!!***