2006-11-24 The Cockroach Mafia

Lately I've been finding waterbugs – a Southernism meaning "really freakin' huge cockroaches", so for the sake of clarity I will call them cockroaches henceforth – in the basement, on a pretty regular basis. They tend to be rather sluggish from the cold cement, and hence are easy to squash.

On one particular visit to the basement, I noticed that the cockroach I had squashed only a few hours before (Roach #1) was essentially gone. Maybe there was a leg, or a small fragment of chitin... but just from the evidence, you'd never have suspected that a cockroach had gasped its last cockroach non-breath (they don't breathe, being insects) in that spot. I squashed Roach #2 on my way out, and decided to check back.

On my next visit to the basement, Roach #2 also was gone. I noticed, however, a few camel crickets hanging out in the spot where Roach #2 had last been seen. Their attitude was basically "nothing unusual has happened here; we are just a small group of happy-go-lucky camel crickets enjoying our Constitutional right to congregate. Pay us no heed." I headed back upstairs, squashing Roach #3 in the process.

Roach #3 was soon gone, too. A similar group of camel-crickets were once again excercising their Constitutional rights on or about the last known location of Roach #3. They were smoking cigarettes and talking trash, but otherwise ignored me as I went past (squashing Roach #4 in the process). I think one of them burped.

When I came back downstairs an hour or two later to check on #4 (of which there was again no sign) I was approached by a couple of camel crickets wearing dark suits and sunglasses. "Noice basement yer got 'ere, Colonel," said the smaller of them. "Wouldn't want anyfink to 'appen to it."

It was more or less at this point that I noticed one particular camel cricket hanging out by the stairs... and then I noticed the small piece of chitin poking out from under a piece of paper. I moved the paper, and discovered (gasp!) cockroach #3, still twitching feebly and with a huge chunk taken out of his side. The camel cricket was, in fact, still munching on him.

"Sorry, squire," said the first camel cricket, "my brodder, 'e get very 'ungry, you know wot Oi mean? Now, per'aps we can come to, ah, some sort of, shall we say, understanding, such as to prevent any unfortunate similar occurrances... own'y per'aps involving your wiring, or bits of your foundation."

Camel crickets are the Cockroach Mafia. Now you know.