bRoaching the Subject (Parts I and II)

Sheesh, what is with Aunt "what-her-name" and her obsessive cleaning? Joe's a slob, always has been, so it's a little late to be worrying about roaches now. I mean, really, there are cave paintings inside the walls from generations of roaches past. It's a holiday, blast it all, will somebody tell her to relax! None of these people look thrilled to be here, but do they have to spoil everybody's good time.

This is Thanksgiving after all; I've had it circled on my calender since...well...last Thanksgiving. Oh man, that was a good one too. I was sucking giblet gravy out of the carpet fibers for a weeks. Didn't see much cooking going on last year, not like this year. Joe just brought home a bunch of covered plates, the fancy ones that let the juices soak through onto the counter. Joe wipes his counters about as often as he washes his dishes so that's some good eatin'.

We never had it so good before Joe moved in. His mom sends him home with a cassarole every Sunday and he just leaves it on the counter and orders a pizza. Then about five or six more joes congregate in front of the big picture box, and drink that smelly brew that makes them really clumsy. Aside from the overcooked pasta, mom's cooking ain't bad, and, thanks to the joes, there are plenty of leftovers on the living room carpet.

I can't complain, but one does like a break from cassarole and pizza every now and then. Thanksgiving is a sacred holiday for us roaches, and now there are all these OCD biddies cleaning away our dinner. Who pours grease into a jar? It should be left into the pan to congeal, but they're in such a rush to dunk it in the soapy water. Look at her, still complaining.

"Blah, blah, blah...fire trap...blah, blah, blah...pig stye...blah, blah, blah...NIGHTMARE!"

Hey look, it's Mom! Maybe she'll put an end to this madness. Wait a minute; is she apologizing to that bleach demon? Oh, that's just insulting! There is nothing wrong with hosting Thanksgiving at a college apartment, thank you very much. Sure beats a pile of ashes, doesn't it?


the next day

Man, I thought that day would never end. At least they didn't stay the night. Aunt "what's her name" commanded Uncle "so and so" to take her to a hotel when she found Joe's tighty whiteys hanging on the bedroom doorknob. The rest were quick to follow when they found out the Red Cross would pay for it. Can't say I blame 'em since I'm not crazy about the undies-on-the-doorknob practice myself, but when you live with someone you learn to take the bad with the good.

I really should be more kind since Joe's parents' house did burn down. You think the relatives with think of that too instead of complaining what a pit her son's apartment is. Ah well, at least there are leftovers, lots more than last year even. Joe hasn't got enough room in his fridge for it all, since he and Dad won't let Mom move the beer. It's only Black Friday and Mom's already hitting the egg nog...HARD.

I'm lovin' the cranberry sauce, room temperature just like I like it. Eddie's noshing on the stuffing and I guess everyone else hasn't heard the news of the unattended feast. Just means more for us, heh, heh.

Whoa, Mom's not lookin' so hot. The joes don't look that bad when their watching the picture box, but then they have the good sense not to try and walk. Poor Mom...hey...what's she doing with that spoon?

Oh my God! She's going for the stuffing! Eddie! Eddie! Get outta there, Eddie! Jump Eddie jump! You can still make it! GAAAH! Ohhh Eddie! She bites him in two then just spits him into a napkin, like he's not even worth chewing. Wretched woman! Oh please, what's she so upset about?