Scene: My room.
I've switched off the PC, shut the book, and am about to go to sleep.
Loud buzzing sound makes itself heard.
Enter flying cockroach from extreme right.
Exit me from extreme left.
It's midnight. Everyone's asleep. My grandmother, who is the family specialist when it comes to catching and throwing out flying cockroaches, is asleep. My father, who's a close second, is asleep too. My mother, who is almost as bad as me at this, is also thankfully asleep. For a moment I toy with the thought of waking them up. But, dammit, I'm 19, am I not? I can deal with this myself. I shut the door and try self-hypnosis.
Okay, relax, it's a stupid bug.
No, it's just gross to look at.
Well, it can't harm you.
It could give me a heart attack!
Oh, come on.
Come on what?!
Maybe it'll go out of the window.
The hell it will!
Maybe you should try catching it.
Well, what can it do?
It can fly into my face. It can crawl up my leg. It can touch my arm. It can...
Okay, stop. Stop. See if you can locate it.
Quick glance into the room proves that it's sitting on the floor and not buzzing around.
See? Maybe it's tired now.
Those things don't get tired!
Hey, maybe you could go to sleep, maybe it'll just scuttle around the floor.
The bugger has WINGS!
Oh. Well... yeah. Try catching it. Go on. Come on. Try it.
So I pick up a jhadoo and a napkin and walk towards the damn thing. I'm 6 inches from it, it hasn't moved, and I'm thinking, "Okay, this is good so far; I'm calm, what can it do to me?"
Then the bloody insect flutters its wings. And I'm out of the room, faster than Vivek Oberoi on sighting Salman Khan.
Another half an hour of self-motivation outside my own room follows. So, then, I do the thing a sane adult would. Run into my room, pick up my pillows and sheets, move some stuff in my parents' room and go to sleep there.
Hey, those things are scary.
This was gonna be one of those posts with *ahem* visual aids, but then my better self took over.