An Open Letter to My Six-Legged Enemies, Especially The Fat and Sassy Ones
I concede the bathroom to you, enemy forces. Inch-long roaches, you can have the toilet bowl. You can have the sink- even that spot near the faucet you like so much. It doesn't much matter to me now. Besides, I stopped keeping my toothbrush in the bathroom a week ago, five days before this new onslaught.
I'm leaving, roaches. And so help me God, vacuum cleaners and Borax, you aren't leaving with me. You can have your kingdom, roaches. You can have the kitchen (although honestly, that was yours before I even knew you), you can have the bathroom, you can even have the room I'm in now (on Tuesday, anyway.) But stay the hell out of my dorm room, because right here? This is the good life. You don't want to go throwing that away.
I look forward to abandoning your demesnes at the earliest possible convenience.
Kelly
I'm leaving, roaches. And so help me God, vacuum cleaners and Borax, you aren't leaving with me. You can have your kingdom, roaches. You can have the kitchen (although honestly, that was yours before I even knew you), you can have the bathroom, you can even have the room I'm in now (on Tuesday, anyway.) But stay the hell out of my dorm room, because right here? This is the good life. You don't want to go throwing that away.
I look forward to abandoning your demesnes at the earliest possible convenience.
Kelly