Eighty-five degrees and sunny every day is all fun and games until you meet your first cockroach. The roaches here aren't the scatter-when-the-light-comes-on type. They'll stand their ground, and maybe even taunt you a bit. The other night Erin and I were watching an perfectly-legal, downloaded television show on the office computer when I went out to get a glass of water. When I returned, I saw a gigantic roach perched above the doorway to the office. He was all, and I quote, "Sup?"
At first I was pretty startled, seeing as the thing looked about as big as a house cat, only more muscular. After I gathered my senses, it occurred to me that it was "only" about an inch and a half long. That's about an inch and a quarter longer than I'm looking for in a roach. I grabbed a sandal (slippah) and told Erin to turn on the hallway lights as soon as I took my swing. If he was going to dive at me, I wanted to be able to see it. So I crept up to the doorway and took aim. The roach was all, "Oh hell naw, stop playin!"
I swung my sandal in a wide arc, intending to hit him as hard as I could. Right before the sandal reached him, he started to fly away and I only managed to clip him on his left side. The hall lights turned on in a blaze of 75 watt brilliance. The blow knocked him back into the wall with a muted thud. He then rebounded, fluttering down toward the laundry closet. I wasn't in the mood to search for a 1.5 inch roach among my dirty socks, so I started flailing wildly with my slippah. On the third or fourth swing, I landed a solid hit to the roachicular region, flattening him into the carpet, but not before I twisted my knee. Damn, I had my first roach fighting injury.
As I stood there, hobbled and out of breath, the roach started to move! I was only able to stare dumbly as my defeated foe tried to get to round 2. But Erin raced in, took my weapon and finished the thing off. She looked back at me, tossed her hair and quipped, "I had to put my foot down on that issue." Man, with a dry, cool wit like that she could be an action hero!
Here are some post-action pictures. Johnsons 1, Roach 0. We won the first battle, but the war is still raging here in Honolulu.
Fig 1: My right slippah. Roach shown for scale.
Fig 2: We pay our respects to the recently departed. "When you get to hell, tell em the Johnsons sent you!"
At first I was pretty startled, seeing as the thing looked about as big as a house cat, only more muscular. After I gathered my senses, it occurred to me that it was "only" about an inch and a half long. That's about an inch and a quarter longer than I'm looking for in a roach. I grabbed a sandal (slippah) and told Erin to turn on the hallway lights as soon as I took my swing. If he was going to dive at me, I wanted to be able to see it. So I crept up to the doorway and took aim. The roach was all, "Oh hell naw, stop playin!"
I swung my sandal in a wide arc, intending to hit him as hard as I could. Right before the sandal reached him, he started to fly away and I only managed to clip him on his left side. The hall lights turned on in a blaze of 75 watt brilliance. The blow knocked him back into the wall with a muted thud. He then rebounded, fluttering down toward the laundry closet. I wasn't in the mood to search for a 1.5 inch roach among my dirty socks, so I started flailing wildly with my slippah. On the third or fourth swing, I landed a solid hit to the roachicular region, flattening him into the carpet, but not before I twisted my knee. Damn, I had my first roach fighting injury.
As I stood there, hobbled and out of breath, the roach started to move! I was only able to stare dumbly as my defeated foe tried to get to round 2. But Erin raced in, took my weapon and finished the thing off. She looked back at me, tossed her hair and quipped, "I had to put my foot down on that issue." Man, with a dry, cool wit like that she could be an action hero!
Here are some post-action pictures. Johnsons 1, Roach 0. We won the first battle, but the war is still raging here in Honolulu.
Fig 1: My right slippah. Roach shown for scale.
Fig 2: We pay our respects to the recently departed. "When you get to hell, tell em the Johnsons sent you!"
Comments
www.doyourownpestcontrol.com
When we used it for fleas it killed roaches too, for a couple years!