One night I and my brother couldn’t sleep. It was already late at night but our eyes were wide open. We already tried different sleeping positions but still we ended up awake. Actually more awake. By the time the clock hit twelve, our stomach was already grumbling. We decided to eat but we considered two things. First our parents would be mad if they hear us lurking early at night and second our door creaks so loud that not only our parents could hear it but also our neighbours. If there was a candidate for best noise pollution, our door would win. It was a dead-end plan. Its either we could eat food and feel guilty that we did what we know was wrong, and that includes a series of scolding. Or we can have all consequences and can’t have a food at all.
I thought hard. Really hard. By the time the clock hits one, I had my decision. I will pretend to have a sickness and cough so hard. To be able for it to be realistic, I will open the door immediately and rush to the kitchen fast. My little brother will then follow me pretending he is concern. My parents may punish us but we have a perfect excuse. Perfect indeed.
I ran and my brother followed. We waited for about five minutes for our parents to react. But they did not. We pulled first two glasses of water and a box medicine. Just in case if they change their mind. After the setting, we started pulling out our bread and jam. We didn’t spoke. We were so engrossed by the sandwich that we didn’t notice what was to come.
I was in my third sandwich, my brother on his fifth. He always eats faster than me. While I was enjoying every bite, I felt a shudder on my feet. I thought it was just a wind. But after a minute, I reminded myself that there was no wind. I was inside an enclosed building. Then I look at my feet, I saw a cockroach making way to my pants and I guess to my underwear. And I don’t tolerate any perversity.
I shook it off. And off it goes. I stomp my feet, aiming for the filthy animal, but it missed. I glanced at the table in front of my chair, the refrigerator and the cabinet. Below of them hid many cockroaches. And I knew they won’t just storm away without a fight and neither do I.
I climbed to my seat, my brother following my lead. He was still eating a sandwich, now it’s his seventh. There was no other weapon. I raised my slipper as a gesture of battle. I waited for about five minutes but nothing happened. Their bodies stood still under the barracks they were hiding. Aha! I spoke. I hate to sacrifice my last sandwich but I have to. I threw breadcrumbs around us. Moments later, the cockroaches started for a run. They were dumb.
I leap from my chair. On air I looked like an eagle, excited for my prey. I smacked them hard. Their bodies pressed hard against the slipper. Their bodies released a liquid. Their bodies lay motionless and remained silly. My brother just stood there, cheering for me. He was amused. I had no time to be flattered but I gave him a grin, ensuring I like his support. I killed almost forty of them. My armed was hurt from the encounter.
I killed too many. I hope I will still qualify for heaven. No worries, I said. I’ll go to the Church first thing in the morning. I’ll confess what happened and beg for forgiveness.
I shouted from my triumph, my two hands raised. Then I turned to my brother, he was still frozen. Then I turned to my back, our parents stood still, with a face I recognize when they’re angry, really angry.
I said in sarcasm “Ma, Pa. Do we breed cockroach?”