I don’t enjoy killing. Nor do I enjoy encouraging others to do so, when I feel too squirmish to do the deed myself. In fact, I almost exclusively DON’T partake in killing any animal except for when it comes to roaches.
And that gray area is where I grapple with.
You see, Kyle and I have been at this co-working space in Austin, that’s housed in this old bread factory warehouse — a neat spot. The bathrooms are outside the actual workspace, down a corridor (still in the warehouse), and about 2 weeks ago I was horrified to find Eustace creeping in one evening.
Eustace was (fuck foreshadowing, you can assume he’s dead af by now) a hideous roach about the size of my palm. And I don’t care if you’re a hobbit or a full-grown man, any roach the size of your palm is unnerving.
I’ve experienced roaches in enough college apartments to know for certain I despise having them in my living, or working areas.
So my first interaction with Eustace was of disgust.
My days carried on, me slowly encroaching (ha) the bathroom to see if massive bugs were lurking about, waiting to strike at my most vulnerable moment.
Because really, how can you defend yourself from monsters when you’re squatting over the toilet and making sure your mask doesn’t bunch up over your eyes while bending AND also making sure your flowy pants aren’t brushing the floor!?
It’s really a horrible place to corner yourself into. I now understand Hermione’s horror when faced with a troll her first year at Hogwarts.
Honestly though, I didn’t see Eustace again till a week after our first rendezvous. I was glad. I didn’t want to kill him because I was irrationally frightened and didn’t want to miss and maim him while he scurried away. I try to make it fast because y’know if you are a murderer, you might as well make it quick.
The evening we met again, the bathroom’s lights were off. Perfect. Every roach’s dreamland. I hesitantly switched it on and looked around hoping nothing would jump out and attack me. Lo’ and behold, Eustace was on the wall next to me like fucking spiderman. I yelped and went right back out.
The next day, I had more courage because I noticed I only saw him in the evenings when most people left the building. So I went in at an appropriate hour to relieve myself in peace. I had been scouring the floors to make sure no Eustace’s were about to strike but now I had to cover walls and ceilings too.
I was on full alert mode.
When I exited the stall and went to wash my hands I noticed Eustace had crept further up the wall to occupy a corner in the top right. I started to feel more at ease because he couldn’t fly or he would have by now and I most certainly would have died.
He was on the corner above the sinks though so I still feared he’d fall down and scurry about the countertops as I was washing my hands.
But no, Eustace remained in his corner. For days.
I had begun to look up towards the right upon entering the bathroom to make sure he was still there and found some weird inexplicable solace at knowing where he was — as if he knew that trampling upon the grounds would scare all patrons.
Eustace seemed to be considerate.
Since he was in his corner for so long, I thought he had probably died. I’ve never known a roach to remain in one place like that.
Unless he happened to move about when no one was looking and sneakily resumed his vantage point in the uppermost parts of the lavatory. I doubt it.
I frequented the bathroom often enough based on how much tea, coffee, and water I drink.
So I determined he was dead and magically stuck to the wall.
I was pleased with my theory till today. I noticed he had slid down 2 inches from his usual position. And his feelers were… feeling.
Like antenna signaling an army to come save him. Holy f*ck.
That’s for future Megan to worry about, I reminded myself as I came back to my desk to finish a copywriting assignment before lunch.
After grubbing on some vegan food, we came back to the coworking space to finish up for the day when Kyle pointed at something.
I gasped. A roach, like Eustace, was flaunting about our groove room. HELL NO. It’s one thing for roaches to scare bathroom patrons, it was a whole other scenario to come into common areas.
I warily observed him walk away, deciding to leave him alone unless he came close to us again…
After regaining composure and going back to my work, a colleague on the booths to my left pointed and said there was a roach behind us.
Apparently, this roach who I assumed to be part of Eustace’s tribe thought it appropriate to come closer to me when I explicitly telepathically told it to fuck off.
“Kyle, kill it.” Words I’m not proud of. It took a team effort. Carly, who informed us about the roach, laid a tissue over it so it wouldn’t splat all over while Kyle put his foot down.
He missed and the roach scurried out under the tissue towards me before Kyle’s shoe ended him.
“Ew,” I exclaimed when I noticed guts around the floor.
I did not like roaches.
I went to the bathroom again and was about to tell Eustace off for his friend’s behavior when I noticed he wasn’t there anymore. Not on the corner, not on the floor, not even fallen on the sink anywhere.
Eustace was nowhere to be found.
And it dawned on me then, that the roach we killed might have been Eustace.
I started to feel conflicted. Why the fuck did I name this huge roach?
Naming things form attachment, and growing attached to a cockroach was never a life aspiration of mine.
I don’t know what it is. I’m regretting giving the killing order even though I’m glad we rid our dear co-working space of a possible infestation.
Maybe I should have tried to capture it and throw him outside — releasing Eustace to the wild so he could be free and eventually become a bird’s meal.
But alas, I carelessly sprung forth and acted on impulse. See a roach, kill a roach. Automatic programs.
We were by no means close to being friends, but I do feel bad. Guilty, even.
Who am I to decide what’s worth squishing? I probably looked enormous, hideous, and frightening to Eustace too. Alas, I can’t shake the ickiness off.
Maybe this tribute in honor of the horror will wipe it away.
Let’s hope his friends don’t come seeking revenge…
