Inside the house, the window was far from the only thing broken. As the roaches clambered across any surface that accommodated their fat little frames, lamps, dressers, cupboards, everything right down to the kitchen sink had mutated into a sea of black rustling seeds with bustling antennas. Mark's broom sailed indiscriminately across every square inch, smashing, crashing, and dashing everything that lay in his path. Roaches clambered over each other in desperate directions to escape his wrath but found themselves flattened shortly after, mashed into pulpy stews with their antennas poking out. Yet no matter how many times he swung his weapon, no matter how furiously he crushed them into smithereens, a resurgence of new opponents announced themselves with growing alacrity behind him. There simply were too many. 

From the washroom came the sound of running water; the bathtub was being filled. Mark scrambled through the oily carpet of cockroach corpses to the scene of the noise. Once inside, he could see the insects mounted on the faucets by the hundreds, furiously pushing down to release more and more water. Yet Mark could see, by the dozens, roach after roach after roach slipping off their precipices and into the pool below. From Mark's standing point, he couldn't see its contents yet, but interestingly, every single time a roach slipped and fell a –SSS! - sound briefly punctuated the air. Something was in the tub besides water. Mark approached the tub cautiously to get a better look.  

SLAM! The door shut behind Mark. Whipping his head around, he saw the situation all too clearly; it was all a trap. The roaches had lured him in, and already he could hear them on the outside furiously pushing against the door to prevent his escape. But why did they want him inside the washroom? As if on cue, another – SSS! – emitted from the bathtub. Mark approached the tub and looked in-

a toaster was floating on the surface of the water. So that was their plan.

At that moment, Mark could feel the roaches approaching him from behind. Those closest to him began grazing his skin; it was the first physical contact they had made with him the whole night. While Mark was not as squeamish as his wife, the knowledge of their scheme filled him with shudders. With uncanny wrath, he flung himself around completely and sent his broom down with a noise like thunder on the 1000 little busybodies planning his demise. The formation behind the front line stepped up to replace the casualties but was promptly disintegrated with the same fervor. Now, they began approaching him from all sides. From left, right, and above, he sent hordes of French screaming insects into the tub by the thousands, but as they landed on his head, he could feel the first few pangs of panic creeping into his consciousness. If he could just get his phone out and call his wife…

BAM! The door was kicked open. Diana stood in disgust and horror at the scene of carnage taking place within. "Mark, get out!"

For the second time that night, Mark needed no prompting. Together, the couple dashed out of the house once again, furiously slashing at Mark's body and face. Diana slapped any sign of black she could see creeping across his countenance, but after Mark's face bore all the signs of her rigorous methods, he had to ask her to stop. It took five minutes before the couple could recommence planning their next strategy.

"The broom wasn't enough, Diana. We need something bigger."

Diana was lost in thought for a moment but quickly brightened. "We still have the air compressor!"

"What good will that do? Blowing them around is hardly any solution. We need something that will annihilate them by the thousands.

"Water? Should we hook up the hose?"

Mark considered this. "We might be able to use it for the ground floor, but I doubt it'll reach upstairs. Unless…unless…”

"Unless what?"

Mark gave no reply. Instead, he grabbed Diana's hand and led her to the side garage door. They crept in as quietly as possible, but to their shock and surprise, there wasn't a roach to be seen anywhere. Mark pulled himself towards the corner cabinet, where Diana could see him withdraw his super soaker water gun.

"Oh, of course! We blast them! Do we have another?"

Mark shook his head, but it was clear his mind was furiously pumping away on a new tangent of ideas.

"Diana, get the tin foil from the kitchen, a lighter, and a candle."

Diana stood perplexed but decided for once to resist arguing back. Wordlessly, she went towards the door leading into the house but thought better of it. It would be better if the roaches didn't know what they were up to in the garage. Stealthily, she snuck back out through the night air and opened the front door ever so slightly. Inside, to her shock, the room was vacated, without a roach in sight. Yet she could hear them above her, in the bedroom. Upstairs, the rallying cries of French declarations blocked all other noises. Diana could relax a little as she went into the kitchen to grab the necessary items. This time, she didn't bother going outside first to enter the garage.