This Blog Is Full Of Crap

While going back through some of my ancient posts, mining them for a project which I can't discuss (or discus) for the moment, I have created a new category called Classic Crap.

This will contain classic posts that I've decided to rescue from the ancient vaults and post up here to IFOC for your amusement.

(Unlike those pricks at Disney, I won't be returning these posts to the vault to scare you into buying some direct-to-video sequel piece of crap.)

Anyway, here's the first one...

"The roaches around here fly"
Originally posted on April 22, 2002

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.

Flap-flap-flap-flap-chikkit-meow-flap-flapflap.

Piper's chasing a cockroach. There's two things you need to know about the cockroaches in Texas:

• They're huge
• They can fly

There's this monster-sized bug flying around the room, evading my radar and swatter. Piper, the lanky-thin burble-kitty of the family, is watching the brown little bastard with keen interest, chirping at it and occasionally pouncing from one vantage point to another.

Do something useful and catch the damned thing, you furry little rat, okay? I'm busy loading up the MP3 player for the next few days worth of walks. Gotta get my Fibber McGee and Molly dose for the week.

Eventually, the bug flies at the back of my neck, bounces off, and Piper makes her move. She launches herself at the back of my neck, swats, and ends up grievously injuring her daddy while the bug flies off. In the War on Bugs, this will be cataloged as a Friendly Fire incident, minor casualty.

Piper wiggle-butts her intention to launch again. I grab her in a tummy-hold, look her straight in the beady green eyes, and calmly tell her "Don't."

Her tail whips twice. Kitty wants to romp and play.

Eventually, the bug settles on my leather jacket, which is resting comfortably on my spare chair. This leather jacket gets about a month and a half of use in this town, but I look good in it so I occasionally stretch the leather jacket season to two or three months with a bit of sweat or casually laying it over my shoulder when I get somewhere. By now, however, it ought to be in the closet and not on the chair where a bug can land on it.

Swatter at the ready, I creep up on the bug. I launch and...

SWAT!

Direct hit! The bug falls off, mortally wounded. It tries to crawl away, but Piper pounces on it and bats it around. She crunches on it a bit before I can mop it up, which means that Piper doesn't get to rub her bug-breath face against mine for a day or two.

Piper and Daddy... the exterminators!