Life Moves, Brooms Sweep, And I Stomp

So tonight there was a huge problem that arose; a little roach crawled into my kitchen. A fat little roach that scurried around the floor quickly, quietly, to afraid to make a noise. As the little roach zig zagged through the kitchen, it left a trail of dirt like droppings behind it. In the morning I knew those droppings would be seen, so I followed behind the roach, sweeping. The fat little roach hid in the shadows of the fridge, counters, and chairs, watching and waiting for me to have my back turned. As soon as my back turned, it lunged into a fast frenzy, mocking me. With one blind swooping motion, I slammed my shoe on top of the roach so hard that pieces flew out from underneath my shoe. The fat little roach was dead, after a whole night, the fat little roach was dead.

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