Written by Ye Olde Scribe

“I wish my mother hadn’t married this creepy old professor. His office is always so musty, groady and, ewe, gross. Have to hold my nose and…”

Door opened.

“Wow! The old guy really spiffed up! Or did he finally get that housekeeper he kept talkin about? So coooooooolllll! No crumbs on the floor. Everything in order. Even smells good. Like… oh, yuck. What’s that? A fucking roach! That’s the biggest roach I’ve ever seen.”

So he stepped on it.

Looking around he saw a few new pictures of his mother and the professor. Then, just as he noticed another new picture in the corner, behind him he heard a loud gasp…

“What in hell’s name have you done?”

“Nothin, Prof dude. I just came here to give you the sandwich Mom made for you. Hey, are you into ‘kinky’ or something? Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mom.”

“No. The picture was of my housekeeper. That’s how she came in when she was interviewed for the job. Why do you think my office is so clean?”

“Wait. Wait. I don’t know what picture you’re talking about. I’m talking about the one with the roach I just crushed, but wearing a dress. Man, that’s kinda sick, you dressin it up and all.”

“No, my housekeeper was a talking roach. She was educated at the Kafka School for Roaches; very prestigious. It’s like our Harvard only for roaches, for Christ’s sake. But what else would I expect you to do, being who you are?”

“What, an ignorant little twit, like you always say?”

“Well, you are that too, but no, I should have known you would do what you did to her because of who you are.”

“Who is that?”

“My step… son.”
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Copyright 2009
Ye Olde Scribe
all rights reserved