Saturday night, I came home to find the almost-giant cockroach in my kitchen waiting up for me, making me ghetto-ramen out of noodles and some dried miso soup. We got into a fight because, if he was going to live in my house, he needed to pay his share of the rent. He got all defensive, saying he was still looking for a job that let him grow as a living thing and, about then, I'd had enough. I told him he could just leave if he didn't want to help with the rent and he said I couldn't kick him out because he was leaving me. He made for the door and tossed out one more cutting remark, so I started hit him with a shoe, he threw a punch, and it was all shoes and fists from there. "Uncle!" he cried, and I went off to watch Clerks and call my sister.

10 minutes late, I went back to move the body, he yelled "Ha!" and started crawling up the outside of my shoe, trying to get in one last hit before I danced on his body with both shoes.