In a rented home a long time ago and far away, we used to live in relative harmony. Cockroach and human...I knew you were there and you knew I was there. Occasionally, I would have to squash one of you to let you know that I was still overlord of this establishment and you were fine with the occasional sacrifice your colony (?) had to make. But then...WAR!

In the peaceful times you knew when the lights went on you had to go back to your nests and stay there until night fell across the land. How you forgot the established rules rather quickly. Starting in the Summer of 98 your hurried runs to the cracks turned into slow jogs and got to the point if you moved any slower you would be on pause. I thought that introducing you to one of the taskmaster's (known to humans as Nike or Adidas footwear) would make you move faster. It did not. Instead you got bolder, more aggressive. Your numbers grew and you felt stronger. Staring at me while shaking your feelers is defiance to my rule. Embarrassing me in front of the occasional company I had over. Forcing me to buy small bags of chips at inflated cost so I wouldn't leave anything for you to foliage. I knew it would take more than the taskmasters to wear down your strength and pacify your numbers.

Investing in enough chemicals, to the point I thought George "W" might launch a military campaign against me in search of WMD's, I thought this would be a quick campaign. Wrong. I would spray in the morning before I left for work and thought I would walk into a roach graveyard when I came home. Not to be. The second night of my chemical attacks was called to a halt as I began to get sick and itchy from the chemicals. Round 1 went to you little SOB's.

With that battle won the Cockroaches got even more bold. Going after food in full view of light and myself, setting up a camp near the fridge, etc. If more than one of you was found at a given time, together, I would kill all but one (severely injuring the one though) to live and tell the others the horror you witnessed and pass along my warning-resistance is futile (credit to the Borg for this...)

As the war raged, I went to the landlord for help. At first he was open to helping me and talked of getting an exterminator but as 2 weeks went by his demeanor changed and then he wanted me to go in half on it which was impossible due to my financial status. I was living in a roach infested home because I couldn't afford anything else at the time.

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