Insects and the City

Ok, so at what point am I allowed to stage a protest that I cannot work under the present conditions, I'm leaving, my paycheck should continue to be deposited indefinitely into my account because I am working from home from now on? Is there a manual for this? There should be. I may write it.

Here's the deal. I work in a major city. That city has a major transportation system. In and around that city and transportation system are the many flavored restaurants of a multi-ethnic metro, serving exotic cuisine from far and wide. So what, right?

Well that means that if I want sushi, bam, it's at my finger tips. Need to go across town to catch a sale at lunchtime? Sure! Catch the El, be back in a bit. Want to meet a friend, try on shoes and grab some Thai food before heading back to the grind? No problem.

In a big-ish city, all of those things are possible and more. But there's a price. A well known, but tightly kept secret that some of us part time city dwellers know all too well. All that convenience and wonderfulness attracts others that want a piece of the action. You know who I'm talking about. The ones that show up and stay but don't pay rent. That's right, vermin.

Yes, rats, mice and roaches that are so big and so prevalent that they should have their own offices and get on the 401(k) plan. It's unsightly. It's gross. It freaks me out. Hopefully you've never encountered the likes of these creatures in all your days, but if you have had the misfortune, you know. You just know what I'm talking about.

I'm not even getting into the origins and raison d'etre, they do their thing and we humans we do ours. But man, I still wish they could do theirs in some way that I would never have to know about.

Which brings me back to the insular point of this evening's rant. At what point is enough, enough? Check this out:

What we have here is the demise of Cleophus the Roach. Cleophus started his day like any other. Woke up, tentacled his wife and eggs before leaving out of the soda can for a long days' work at the Chinese food carton. The boss sent him on a special assignment that day though. This project could mean that he and his family would get transferred to the other side of the street where most of the food was pickled! Who knew? The possibilities were endless. Cleophus excitedly tentacled with his work partners and headed up to the office floor to scavenger the area and bring back a report of the findings. He had heard of many others going to the land of the carpets but anything could be up there. Humans, poison, anchovies, anything!

Traipsing off on the call of duty, I'm sure Cleophus had no idea that he (or she, what do I know? Are they identified by gender??) was going to meet with this end of my camera phone and a toilet on this day.

But I ask you, really? I mean, really??

Grossed out? Yeah, well, me too. You understand what I was going in there to do, right? Well I gave Cleophus a proper send off but I'm at my limit. Do not believe for a moment that this was even near the first time or even the most disgusting. At least Cleophus had the decent courtesy to be dead.

Exactly.

So all I'm saying is there's got to be a limit. There's only so many times that I should have to face Cleophus' brethren before it's just too much. I'm traumatized. Everyone else just seems to accept it saying, that well, that's what happens in the city. I'm starting to think that strip malls, huge free parking lots and chain restaurants maybe aren't so bad. Country mice versus gang banging rats? I just don't know anymore...