"We meet again, you disgusting waste of life."
No answer. The bastard just stares at me, perched on top of our refrigerator, taunting me to make the first move. Well, it's now or never.
Without taking my eyes off of him, I rush to grab the nearest weapon I could get my hands on—great, a magazine. This will have to do. What's more important is the one I have in my other hand: the toxic death spray. I'm gonna drench him in it and I won't stop until I kill this bastard.
I threw the magazine at him and aimed the toxic spray, sending the stack of canned goods toppling down. He suddenly flew towards me—
"AHHHHHHH!!!!"
I blindly sprayed, throwing myself against the wall while screaming murder, causing a ruckus in our kitchen.
"What the hell is happening here?!"
My brother exclaimed, taking in the sight of the messy kitchen before him that reeks of the sickening strong odor from the spray. I desperately pointed at the black pest a meter to his right and shouted, "Kill it! Kill it! Hurry and kill it!"
He saw the cockroach and sighed, stomping on it with a crisp, cringe-inducing crack.
---
Just a writing exercise in flash fiction.
