open letters.

Dear Cockroaches:

This is just not going to work. I understand why you thought it was, what with my excessive love letters to New Orleans and my years upon years of veganism and my scheduled class trip to the Insectarium. You thought we could live in peace together, and I don't blame you for that. It almost might have been possible at one point in time, too. But if you had wanted to have a good coexistance, here are some choices you should NOT have made:

1. You should have chosen to NOT grow to be the size of mice. I mean, really. Bugs?! The size of MICE?!?! That is not supposed to be a thing. You are not supposed to do that. You are supposed to stay the size of bugs, like all the rest of the bugs do, and just chill the fuck out. But no. You all go off ballooning to unprecedented lengths and widths and then you scuttle about and you have little hairs on your legs and it is not attractive AT ALL.
2. You should have persuaded the cockroach who just FELL FROM THE CEILING ONTO MY FACE to have NOT climbed the ceiling. You KNOW your feet are notoriously slick. When he climbed up onto the ceiling, you should have ALL BEEN ALREADY AWARE that he was going to fall onto my face, and you should have TOLD HIM not to climb up there in the first place. Poor choices, gentlemen.
3. Likewise, you should have told your comrade who thought it wise to chill out in the cat food bag all day that when he jumped out of the bag, he should try NOT to jump onto my leg and NOT to climb up to my knees.
4. And for the love of God, fellows, STOP EATING MY FOOD! It's MINE. That is what the garbage is for. When I leave a nice biscuit on a plate on the stove to eat when I get home from work, I want to be able to come home from work and pick up the biscuit and put it in my mouth without also putting a cockroach in my mouth. Which is what I did today. And I'm sure it wasn't pleasant for that cockroach, either. That's what greed will get you, cockroach. Learn your place.
5. When you look at me with your freaky, hard-shell-eye-faces, please stop giving me looks that say, "I am going to pounce on you and eat you," or, alternately, "I am right now laying hundreds of eggs all over your house." These are not particularly alluring statements to make with your eyes, and they make me scared.

Maybe I should have told you sooner that there were rules. I believed that they could go unwritten. But regardless, a line has been crossed, and you are just going to have to leave. Please go out through the tiniest crack in the window I have left near my desk. If not, enjoy the debilitating roach spray I have spread across the floors and cracks of every part of my house. It smells dreadful, even to me.

It's not me, it's you. I am a pretty patient person. You are a disgusting insect with no evolutionary purpose. We are done here. Oh, and don't forget to give me back my black T-shirt.

Sincerely,
Sophie



Dear Dead and Rotten Tooth In My Mouth:

I am sorry I haven't had you removed yet. My health insurance does not cover dental. I noticed that yesterday you turned brown, and I'm sure that's very hard for you. I want to give you a hug, but it's rather difficult due to your present location.

I know it's a lot to ask, and I mostly just harass you by rubbing sugar and carbs into you, but would mind not causing the rest of my mouth to seize up in pain? Just because you're in a tough situation is no reason to be a bully.

Awesome! Talk to you tomorrow!

Love,
Sophie