Thursday, June 25, 2009


The Invincible by JLDenman June 23, 2008

Notes: I hid under the desk, wishing I was smaller, wishing I could disappear altogether.
Why is she/he hiding? Who's trying to find her? Why?

They say we¢ll be around forever. The bomb didn¢t get us. The spray didn¢t burn us. The whole world dies and we, we little munchers, get to survive and chew and gnaw on the bloody, yummy bits. My brother, well, he learned the hard way that they, those giants out there with the microscopes and white coats and thick rimmed bottled looking eyes, were wrong!

Oh sure we survive. The race survives; it always does. But that don¢t amount to a hill of dung or rat drips in the grand scheme of my little self. Who cares if a race survives when you ain't there to scurry around with the rest of the minis? So! so what, I sound selfish? Think about it, you don¢t want to be some bitty runt dead at the bottom of the cosmic shoe. Do you? NO you don¢t! No shoe ridge filler for you! No boot heel mish-mash. No potato mash guts for you. YOU want to survive. Don¢t you? We all do.

Yet you force me to sit here hiding beneath that noise box. Scared to death that death will come for me. Yep, come right on for me, a giant smoosher ready to grind my exoskeleton to pulp. Oh, except I don¢t get that graceful, martyr-esque death that you all watch so much on those damnable plipping boxes with the electronic clicker! Oh, no glory and bravado and praises for me and my kind, not that I care too much about the rest of my kind in perpetuity since I won¢t see 'em no time soon if you have your blasted way! I get no 21 gun salute. I get gassed, stomped, beheaded. Smooshed and swatted with brooms and big boots- my head lying 3 inches away and my body scurrying around trying to find it Real funny, funny death for me! Pull off a leg! beat me with it! Stab me with the left over wing tip! Kill me, I¢m your lowly crunching boy! Thank ya massa!

Or it¢s death by that oh so wonderful, oh so threateningly looming, every expanding white crinkled up flimsy tissue thing. We weren't frightened by such flipery once upon a time. Oh what that don¢t hurt us. We¢ll survive a nuclear bomb! HAHAH, the last laugh was on Freddy. Freddy died at the hand of one of those white omens of death and gut spewing!

So you and your fine tall folks keep on spraying and stomping. I sit here under a piano wishing I were smaller, wishing I were invisible. The INVISIBLE INVINCIBLE ROGUE ROACH OF APARTMENT 747.

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