…if you have a nasty azz house.
I spent a good percentage of my younger days in the hood, so I’m no stranger to roaches and what not (NO, they were not in my house). But damn, just because I have experienced it in my past life, doesn’t mean you can just sneak that on me. You still need to let somebody know before they come into your home that you have roaches so big they pay rent. Seriously.
I dropped my girl off at her place, which she just moved into with her man. She invited me in for a drink, and I made that bad move and assumed that her house was of reasonable cleanliness. I guess I just figured if you invite someone in, that things must be okay inside. Ummm, no. Hell no. Hell to the nawl even.
I walked in the door and it looked like Hurricane What the Fuck and Tropical Depression Holy Shit had just rolled through there. Clothes and shoes everywhere. I saw a plate of something that kind of resembled the remnants of greens and chicken on the arm of the sofa. There was a slight aroma of feet wafting through the air that made me throw up in my mouth a little. I get a little queasy just thinking about it. *shudder*. This girl is so clean and neat with everything else in her life, I can’t believe that she actually moved into this mess, and that she is actually okay with it. I guess love is a sonofabitch, cuz there would have to be lots of it for me to live in that trash.
I wasn’t trying to stay long enough to have a drink because as soon as I cleared off some space to sit on the green sofa (it’s grey now, ewwww) I saw two of the biggest roaches ever do the slow crawl up the wall. Some big behemoth mofos that looked like they were on anabolic steroids or some shit. I was afraid to smoosh them cuz I know they would have just turned around and tried to cuss me out for interrupting their commute home. I couldn’t bring myself to sit down, so I just stood around pretending like I was looking at the art on the wall–which consisted of nothing more than a Scarface poster and one of those “I Have a Dream” MLK, Jr. posters. I looked down at my feet cuz I caught the sight of something moving near my foot, and of course it was a big azz centipede. I ’bout screamed for Jesus then and did the quick one-two step all over that thing.
Her: “Heh heh, sorry I know it’s a lil messy in here right now”
Me: (to myself- “A little messy? Are you looking at the same mess I’m looking at?”) “It’s okay”
Her: “What did you want to drink?”
Me: “I’ll take a bottled water to go. I gotta get to the gym”
I wasn’t about to sit my behind down and indulge. Nah son. I was not trying to have the cast of “Joe’s Apartment” invite me to play Spades with them. From the look in her face, I could tell she understood where I was coming from and tried to laugh it off.
Her: “Ok Tash, I’ll call you on Wednesday to see if you want to do something”
I’m not sure I can do that now. I’mma have to spray her azz with Raid, Black Flag, and Off before she comes near me again. And her man, the original owner of the mess…he’s just denied period. No access to my house, my car, my table at Starbucks. I know a creepy crawly is up in her clothing somewhere, and I will NOT have one of them fall off of her and into my car or my house. I snatched that water and ran the hell out the door. I shook myself off as best I could and then went to the car wash to have my interior vacuumed out. As soon as I got home, I made a beeline for the shower and tossed my clothes in the wash.
I’m still itchy thinking about that hot azz mess. Have yall ever experienced anything like that?? Get at me in the comments