The little monster

I have become one of those girls who squeals at bugs, I hate it! I was happily asleep as usual the other night, when I was awoken by a gentle tickling on my leg. This in itself is unusual as I sleep like the dead and a loud explosion would not wake me normally. I opened my eyes and instead of scratching the spot, I looked down. I saw the biggest cockroach imaginable making his way up my leg. He was big, really big. This cockroach would not fit comfortably inside a cigarette box and he was taking a stroll up my left thigh. I screamed and jumped and promptly fell off my bed in my panic. The monster, ran up the curtain. I tried to get him into a tupperware box that was at hand, I recently emptied it of tasty biscuits. I failed miserable at this, because as soon as the beast moved, I screamed and fell off the bed again. So I did what women the world over do to my scorn, I reached for my phone and called my boyfriend. He answered blearily and I garbled something about a bug the size of a kitten in my bed and he did what boyfriends the world over do, he laughed and said, 'kill it'. This course of action had not actually occurred to me. The sheer size of the thing prevented me from realising that it was just a bug, and I could, in reality, kill it. Of course as if it had read my murderous thoughts the animal hid inside the timbers of my bed. Damn. Now what do I do. I thought for a moment and then ran to get the bug spray. I would smoke him out! Ha! So I sprayed and sat cross-legged in the centre of my bed waiting, spray in one hand, shoe in the other, just waiting for him to come out so I could get him with the shoe. Thus I waited for four hours. Four hours in a state of cat like readiness. Twitching at every noise. Four hours, from One to Five am and the little bastard never came out. I slept on the balcony.