Pop-roach Pops the Question

Posted on June 22, 2014. Filed under: Animals, Nature, Self-awareness | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

Cue the cricket choir, and amp up the frog croakingromance is afoot.  Soft, sultry nights just ooze with it…   unless you are alone.  That feeling has another name — lonely despair (…sigh)!  But, enough about me.

Today’s pick-up lineWild thing, I think I love you.

Presently, we remain confined to my dark ell.  My new friend, the pop-roach, mimics my solitary routine.  Out here in the open, he moves through my awareness in cautious fashion, scurrying here, investigating there, fearful that a tiny scrap of edibles might be missed…   or that he might become a tiny scrap of edible to larger others.  It is our his lot in this existence.

Your words for the day (mostly the same as the previous post):

  •  pop = explode; suddenly increase in size
  • roach = cockroach, an insect; various sizes; worse than a fly in my soup
  • pop-roach = a cockroach with desires
  • CR = cheesy reference (I am shamelessly using big names to improve my blog visibility)

Responding to a disturbance in the force,* pop-roach suddenly became alert.  Whatever it was, it exuded an irresistible perfume…   to the pop-roach, not me.

Whoa!!!  It was a CHICK…   or…   whatever roach guys call roach gals.

Forgetting the take-out, he homed in on gal.  Like a radar-guided missile, he maneuvered his approach to intercept directly from the front.  She stopped in her tracks.  They met, nose to nose (technically, that might be antennae to antennae, but that’s not so picturesque), and “for a brief, shining moment” there was “Camelot,”**  and they stood there, strangers in the night.***  Cue the singersWild thing, I think I love you.****  It was a classic “boy meets girl” moment, until…

…pop-roach got carried away and mimicked an overheated popcorn kernel:  he EXPLODED.  I had never seen anything like that.  Barely did they get the prelims out of the way, and testosterone guy jacked up his hind legs so his body was inclined about 45 degrees while maintaining nose contact.  Popping the question, “Will you be mine tonight?  Say you will, say you will be mine tonight!”,***** he emphasized his ardor by deploying both wings and both wing covers at 90 degree angles to his body, like a frilled lizard magnifying its true size.  It was sudden, it was frightening, it looked painful.  Jacked-up butt, splayed wings and covers!  WOW!!

For her part, gal-roach put out some feelers…   uhhh, so to speak.  She felt him up (literally) and concluded, “Loo-zer!”  She broke off contact and resumed her hunt for take-out.  Or a better offer.  Whichever came first.

Pop-roach, in true guy fashion, persisted.  The scuttlebutt among the guy-roaches down in the sewer drains was that the gals really wanted to be with a guy (wink, wink), and persistence would always pay off.  Persistent he could be.

Food now far removed from his mind, he tracked (…H. smart sap. gals might say “stalked”), he intercepted, he repeated his astounding display.  “Aw, c’mon!  Be mine tonight.”

Again, she considered.  Warned by gal-roach gossip that guy-roaches have only one thing on their tiny little minds, she had two options:  Romance?  No-o-o-o-o!  Roach-a-cide?  Still considering.  After all, she had…

  • Opportunity:  he is spending a lot of uninvited time in her personal space.
  • Motive:  What part of “no” could he not understand?
  • Means:  Possibilities were (1) lure him to a roach motel and let him go in first, (2) lure him close to the foot of that killer-ape who hangs out in their neighborhood.  Downside:  both choices would put her too close to the kill zone.  So, she opted for (3), a sprint out of the area and just hope that he did not follow.

Twice rejected, he gave up and consoled his (probably) broken heart by…   scurrying here and there hunting for a bite to eat; comfort food, no doubt to soothe the aching 13 chambers of his heart.  (Sheesh!  That will take a lot of comforting.)

Two insect entities, two different genders.  Both considered to be primitive life forms, yet each of them knows what it will take to satisfy itself.  Sounds like “primitive” is up to snuff on this self-awareness thing.

Dr. Smart E. Butt can forget that mirror test.  These guys do reflected vibrations, not reflected light.


*CR#1:  the force.  Star Wars movie term, George Lucas   |   **CR#2:  Camelot, playwright Alan J. Lerner   |   ***CR#3:  Strangers in the night, Frank Sinatra, Charles Singleton & Eddie Snyder   |   ****CR#4:  Wild Thing, The Troggs, Chip Taylor   |   *****CR#5:  Say You Will, Foreigner, Lou Gramm & Nick Jones


Previous posts in the TALES FROM MY DARKEST ELL (An exploration into self-awareness)

  • Pop-roach does the Colonel
  • The Art of Fly Fishing
  • The Best Part of Waking Up…   is not having to actually get up



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Valentine’s Day

Posted on February 13, 2012. Filed under: Special-Occasions | Tags: , , , , , , , , , |

Uh-oh!  Here comes a speed boat.  We’re not even out of the harbor, and it looks like the harbor police are hot after us.  No… Wait.  That’s a representative of the Port Valentine Authority.  They say we have to drop  anchor at February Cove, Wharf 14.  It’s mandatory.  (Where are those navigation charts?  It’s diversions like this that really throw us off schedule.  I’ve got a lot of stuff to kick around with you, but, that”ll have to wait till we clear this cove.)

Oh, yeah.  The Annual Memory Test.  Flowers, candy, and greeting cards – that’s the minimal hardware prescribed for your soft ware…  you know, that special spot in your heart that warms up when you think about her.  I am speaking to all you guys out there, because (let’s face it) Valentine’s Day is another one of those “let’s see just how much HE really cares about me” times.  Chances are, you will not forget her birthday, but anniversaries and Valentine’s Day sort of blend into the background like a hunter in a blind.  There is a protocol for this day; she knows it forwards and backwards, and she never forgets the date.  For all you brutish mentalities who think “warm and fuzzy” is best described as a tying touchdown late in the Super Bowl (Yeah!  Sad, but, it’s the majority of guys) you can find those protocols filed under caring, considerate, love, warm and fuzzy, romance, hugs, kisses…  you get the drift.

The archery competition.  If you have a preferred target for the arrows of the Valentine’s love squad (Eros, Amor, Cupid), you can soften her up with any number of tried and true tacts:  a lovely card, a nice restaurant, fresh flowers/corsage, and – most importantly of all – your undivided attention, because THEY DO NOTICE when you look about the room.  There are other choices (jewelry, champagne, etc.), but those are your call.  It depends on how far you want to go with this whole be-my-valentine thing.

Gals, too, express affection at this time, but, they are more selective and focused than your average guy.  They are often homing in on Mr. Right, and they want the entire love squad firing volley after volley into his heart.  Mr. Right will get that affection-laden card hand-delivered with a Mona Lisa smile and love-smitten eyes;  Mr Right will be expected to reciprocate with appropriate gestures of appreciation.  If Mr. Right is one of you guys with a Super Bowl brain, and, you have to look up the word reciprocate, well…   it’s going to be a very long year for you.  Any of you who show up a day late with discount candy and a sad pot plant, you and your next of kin have my condolences.  You will be missed.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.

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