close encounters of the roach kind

i was cleaning up my desktop today. i started emptying and editing old school folders and assignments. in the process, i came across the following senior-year assignments. a paragraph about how to behave in an interview: "When asked about yourself, give good clues and information concerning how you function at work, interact with others, things that make you happy. But don’t go on and on about your cats and your kitchen and your great aunt Edna. This is an interview, not a first date."

followed up by a response to what role economics is going to play in my future: "I am going to have to start doing my own taxes next year and I desperately need to make sure that I don’t get hosed by the government."

what?? who the criz let me graduate??

while contemplating this and other mysteries of life, i had a sudden shock. i was sitting on my bed, swathed in mosquito netting, when i heard a noise from against the wall. i paused the ryan adams tunes blasting from my laptop and listened for it again. and there it came. from behind my trash can i heard a rustle rustle. hmm, a mouse, i think to myself. now how will be the best way to usher the little guy out the room? i sit still and wait for him to emerge. in a few seconds, he does emerge. but to my surprise and horror, what comes creeping out is not a mouse, but a roach roughly the size of a large breakfast sausage. lucky for the other residence of my hall, i didn't scream out-loud like i was inside. paralyzed by shock, i just dropped my mouth open and sat with my eyes bugging out like a kid choking on a marble. (it happened to me once. another story for another time)

oh jumpin jehosaphat. i didn't move. i watched him make his way from behind my trash can to the door and then, with a crinkly noise of his wings, he squeezed through the door and out into the hall. i wanted to be relieved, but all i could think of was all those irritating statistics people throw around when they're not actually in the presence of a huge bug. "where you see one, there's a hundred." "every year, at least 53,005 spiders crawl in and out of your mouth while you sleep," or whatever the in-vogue number at that moment might be. i got out of bed and tip toed across the floor to the trash can. with one swift and expertly aimed toss, i dumped all of the contents into an empty plastic grocery bag and tied it off. that would need to go out to the dumpster asap. next would be yet another treacherous trip to the bathroom down the hall to wash up so i could get to bed. 

with various soaps in hand and protective footwear on, i unlocked my door and slowly crept out into the hall, watching in all directions for any roach-y sneak attack. i got to the bathroom, tip toed to the sinks, and when i finally decided it was all clear, i set about washing up. well, it's uncanny. with the next glance at my feet, i see none other but the fat sausage roach scurrying toward my protective footwear. i jump back aghast, only to be seen by two of my hall mates coming in for a shower.

um, sorry, there's a... this bug is in here and... what should we do?

one of the ladies crouched down next to him where he was cowering against the floor board, and she casually asked her friend, 

is this the kind that bite?

no, her friend said. and then she stood up straight again and asked me,

do you fear it?

well, no, it's just, i mean, he's big and gross, you know? and...

ah, screw all this coy bunk.

yes. i'm afraid of it.

mmm.

and then she stomped on it with her flimsy shower shoes and in one triumphant crunch he was dead.

the ugandan mmm is, in these parts, the equivalent of the lebowski dude. entire conversations can be had with just this noise depending on inflection, context, and eyebrow raise. it can be a question, a reprimand, an exclamation, an agreement, or el duderino if you're not into the whole brevity thing. 

mmm?

mmm.

mmm!

mmm.

mmm.

i've come to use it primarily in conversations i've zoned out of or questions i don't understand. i dunt noo ifa you wunt un to woosh de clothe ez?

mmm. 

i thanked the ladies and instantly felt ridiculous. they said, mmm. none the less, the next day i went straight into town and bought some 'doom,' the liquid-death aerosol that kills roaches, ants, beetles, scorpions, house cats, and humans who don't wear a nurse's mask. i mean, come on. roaches? in my bedroom? this is a private residence, man!