Rats and Roaches

I saw that first episode of "Fear Factor" with the rats. You know, where the contestants lie in a pit of rats for four minutes to get to the next round. It looks easy. I would've breezed through that first episode. Climbing out on the hood of the suspended car looked fun. Here's why it's not as scary as it looks. You won't get hurt on the show. Fear of harm, for me, is the biggest fear.

I got this note slipped under my door from one of the other tenants in my building:

*** FOR YOUR SAFETY ***

HAVE YOUR VEHICLE CHECKED OUT!

THE RATS IN THE PARKING LOT HAVE GONE INTO THE ENGINE COMPARTMENT OF MY CAR AND EATEN AWAY THE SPARK PLUG WIRES!

(I WAS BARELY RUNNING ON 3 OF MY 4 CYLINDERS)

I WAS TOLD BY MY MECHANIC TO PLACE CAYENNE PEPPER ON THE WIRING, HOSES AND OTHER VEHICLE INNARDS UNDER THE HOOD TO MAKE IT LESS PALATABLE.

GOOD LUCK!

Now, the rats in my parking garage are the size of cats and are dark and slick and dart. They can outrun you. They chew on metal. Not like the cute, furry, "domestic" rats that tickled the Fear Factor contestants. If I was a contestant and they showed me just one of those parking garage rats, fohgeduhaboudit.

If fear of harm is my biggest fear, what's the second? Cockroaches. That's the chink in my armor. Especially when they're as big as the one I saw the other night. There I am watching Letterman -- if those rats are the size of cats, then this roach was the size of a rat. The sighting of this monster is followed by a long string of expletives and a mad dash for a newspaper. This roach is HUGE.

WHACK!

"Ha ha! Everyone (what do they know?) says you'll survive long after humans have become extinct, but I got you! I gotcha good!"

I lift the newspaper expecting a huge mess, gallons of roach guts oozing, covering the paper.

IT'S NOT THERE.

God. No. Not this.

I could lose my wallet, my keys, my telephone to the Bermuda Triangle of Lost-Items-Right-Before-Your-Very-Own-Eyes (which regularly claims dropped loose change), but I can't, I won't, I will not let this happen. I will find this monster. I will kill it.

After half an hour with a flashlight on all fours looking under everything and regularly brushing myself off (in case the roach thinks it can hide close to me to avoid detection), I see it taunting me in plain sight, in wide open country.

WHACK!

It's still going! It runs for cover behind some paintings lying against the wall. I uncover it. It moves to the next painting. Repeat three more times until there is nowhere else for it to go.

WHACK!

Tough as nails, this thing won't stop, it's going for the corner.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

It doesn't smush. It lies on it's back and looks dead, it's little feet twitching...

No! It's back. It's scurrying towards me! One last gasp effort to take me down with it! I am in jeopardy!

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Jesus. New plan. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Then with the roach rolled up in the paper, I take the flashlight and lift it high overhead. The flashlight is metal. It comes down hard. When I hear the crunch, I know I am victorious!

Downtown living at its finest.