I’m not sure if this is what I want to be known for in the office. The resident cockroach stomper, or to quote a colleague, “a waterbug.” Were my fears about a cockroach erupting out of the toilet true? It was in the bathroom today, the bathroom that I sit right beside. Am I the reason these cockroaches are coming? Do they have a vendetta against me? Who knew that these loafers I got would be more than just slip-on shoes that look like something a grandfather would wear? Now they are killing machines. I know some people have their hands classified as deadly weapons. I will see if I can put in the paperwork to do the same for my docker’s loafers. I wonder if the company knows that they’re selling the equivalent of nuclear bombs to the cockroach community. Dockers are certified arms dealers. Actually, scratch that, what they’re selling is more powerful than a nuclear bomb because in my last post I already spoke about how cockroaches can survive them. They can survive anything. Except for a Dockers loafer.

I’m still yet to investigate the Kafka metamorphosis stuff. I typed out this sentence and then immediately googled it. He transforms into a monstrous insect, yadda yadda yadda, but most people in contemporary culture attribute it to be a cockroach. Thus, I take back what I last stated. I am not the next Kafka. I am the enemy of Kafka. Even though he’s dead and that was just a character in a book. I would have to assume it had a metaphor attached as well. I don’t care. To me, Kafka is a giant cockroach man, and he must be thwarted. Even though he’s dead. I believe in the tv show, The Powerpuff Girls, there was a villain who had the ability to control cockroaches, and like he turned into the equivalent of a Kaiju when like a million cockroaches were his body. It was gross. The Powerpuff Girls defeated him. They are essentially my sisters now.

I veered off track too much with the last post, wondering aloud how to add up to my word count and I won’t do that here. I just think I’ll start wearing a cape when I go into the office as the CK. The Cockroach Killer. Maybe Calvin Klein will sponsor me. Or the aforementioned Dockers. Or like, maybe just cockroaches can stop coming into the office because I don’t really need to be known as the guy that they call on to step on insects. I do have other talents, ya know? But it seems that this is my greatest one so far. And if I must be the one to vanquish those little shits, so be it. Because when Hank is around, justice will prevail. So it goes.