“Bill”

The roaches were waiting for me on my keyboard. I wasn’t going to be on the keyboard, but they were there, waiting for me to type something. They were waiting for me to touch my fingers to them, to laugh at me when I freaked out, not realizing they were down there, looking up at me, looking at each other, giggling, waiting for me to touch them.

They all scattered except for Bill. Bill was their leader and he and I had a bit of a bond going on. I don’t remember when we met cos I was very drunk at the time and have maintained the same level of intoxication since. But I remember Bill looking up at me, and me down at him, and thinking:

“This is one cool motherfucker.”

Since then, Bill has told me he had the same exact thought as he looked up at me that first night we met.

He and his friends were hanging around in the dark. They didn’t think about where they were but they were on my desk, shitting all over my papers and various other deskly knick knacks. I was out drinking with Adam early in the night and I came home, fumbling with my keys, just wanting to get inside to drink some more, and maybe jack off if I had the strength left over. Instead, I went to my computer, opened up the laptop, and attempted to type some new lyrics, words that Adam had said to me a couple hours earlier, that I wanted to remember before it all faded. And my fingers hit that hard exoskeletal crunch that happens when your fingers press down on the backs of 20 roaches.

And they all scattered except for the one little fucker who stayed put, staring up at me. And we looked at each other for a minute or so before I crouched down lower to get a better look at its face. It just stood there, antenna moving back and forth, scoping my situation. I leaned in as close as I could, enough to finally see its eyes. And I whispered:

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

And it just looked up at me, it’s strange little eyes blinking a couple times.

“I'm Bill.”

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