(Pittsburgh, PA) I have had it, just had it. This is my house and I feel attacked, My safe space has been crushed and destroyed like a used tissue; gross and surprisingly hard. Is this the life I have spent so much time cultivating? For what? If I can just be attacked while trying to relax in the comfort of my own home, then maybe this isn’t the world for me. At least on the moon there’s no bugs! This is why I have come to say: hey Roach, get a job!
All this time you spend, wiggling around on the floor, could instead be spent, contributing to the betterment of society. There is nothing stopping you, Mr. Roach, other than your own laziness! At this point, you must be getting some sort of sick pleasure out of this, I honestly see no other explanation.
I hate you so much, Mr. Roach. I have so much anxiety in my day-to-day life that your presence is just the cherry on top of the bad ice cream sundae. Also, in this scenario, the person eating the ice cream sundae is lactose intolerant, so that’s good.
Now, I don’t really understand how roaches work. Like, it seems like a bunch of mean dirt got together one day and thought, “hey, you know what would be the worst thing ever?” and then became a roach. How can I prevent something that can evolve at such a fast rate from coming anywhere near my dogs? Please tell me, I am tired of sharing the bed.
Also, have you heard about this flying roach bullshit? My guy, if God exists, he will have to answer for some things. Much more important things, obviously, but I’ll wait in line to complain about roaches.
So please, Mr. Roach, get yourself a LinkedIn and get a job you worthless terror. Signed, everyone in the whole world.
This article was written by Nathan eLLWOOD who is leaving it as it is. This is raw art, respect it. Follow him for more on Twitter @NPEllwood.