I was comfortably sitting on my bed watching Grey’s Anatomy and having lunch when I saw my dear cat playing with something. Looking more closely I realized it wasn’t any of her toys, so I became curious. It was a cockroach.
At first, I was happy, for I hate cockroaches. But then I realized that the fucking dead thing was turning itself into pieces. Conclusion: my bedroom floor is full of cockroach pieces. And I am the one who’s going to clean it up. And I hate cockroaches.