The War of the Roaches
It began on May 30th. The Aggressor made a completely unprovoked attack using a 16‑oz. spray bottle of Professional Strength Roach Killer, which took many of the Roaches by surprise and weakened their forces considerably. However, some survived and began planning their strategy.
The next move on the part of the Aggressor was the purchase of roach motels late Monday night (June 1st). These were strategically placed at many crucial roach strongholds.
The roaches decided it was time for outside aid. Roaches from neighboring apartments were duly contacted and a force of millipede mercenaries was also engaged. The battle escalated the next day with the attacker’s purchase of boric acid This was sprinkled carefully over many major transportation routes, forcing the development of alternate modes of roach army movement.
Feeling even more intense weaponry was needed, the Aggressor purchased (on the morning of June 3rd), additional roach motels. The insect army was getting decimated quite rapidly, and the Aggressor noticed it was composed mainly of adolescent roaches.
Just when it seemed the tide was turning in favor of the Aggressor, reinforcement battalions from the apartment building next door arrived. These were adults, hardy and strong. It was time for the ultimate weapon. It had been threatened many times before in hopes of negotiating a peaceful settlement.
Oscar Wildecat, Secretary of Defense for the Aggressor, had pleaded with many roaches individually to give up the fight and order a cease‑crawl, but to no avail. The roaches had been known to be fanatical in their beliefs, and it was proven time and time again. With a heavy, saddened heart, the Aggressor purchased insecticide room foggers.
The cans were solemn black with the appropriate warnings lettered in red and white. The Aggressor knew this was a last resort and tried one last time for a victory using conventional weapons. A spoonful of crunchy peanut butter was put on the kitchen counter, and around it was sprinkled a circle of boric acid. If this did not succeed, the buttons would have to be pressed — releasing the familiar mushroom‑shaped clouds of insecticide and bringing with it the awful stench of death and destruction.
The Aggressor retired for the evening and hardly slept a wink. The Secretary of Defense was up all night, trying dutifully up to the last moment to settle the conflict peacefully. It was to no avail. The fanatical roaches spit in the Secretary’s face, and not one fell for the peanut butter.
The buttons on the Aggressor’s foggers were pressed, and the she fled the apartment. In less than an hour, the last major roach strongholds were obliterated. With tears in her eyes and a handkerchief over her nose and mouth, the Aggressor relentlessly bombarded major cities and small villages. Roadways were destroyed, and innocent civilian moths and ants also fell in the wave of carnage that swept through apartment number Seven.
Although some isolated guerrilla roaches remained, there was no hope for what was once a mighty nation. There was a minor skirmish here and there, but the tide turned, and the Aggressor conquered vast amounts of territory.
Secretary of Defense Oscar Wildecat took a hard line against the pleas of remaining survivors. Some called him cold and merciless, but he had been humiliated many times by individual roaches and perhaps his actions were understandable, even defensible.
Victory was not without cost. Vigorous sanctions were extended to the Aggressor by the UA (United Arthropods). Butterflies no longer engaged in free trade with her petunia plants, and bees no longer pollinated her azalea bush. Only time could heal the psychological scars suffered by both sides in the debilitating and awful conflict.
Valuable lessons were learned by all involved, however. The Aggressor learned the merits of preventive negotiation. She no longer left scraps of edible organic material lying about. That was an unwarranted and needless provocation to the UA, and led to many misunderstandings as to possession of territory. The UA, in turn, accepted the fact that their only legal place of residence was the great Outdoors ‑‑ and in abiding by established inter‑organism rules and customs, they were able to carry on perfectly normal and unaffected lives. The Aggressor and the UA learned to coexist peacefully.
We must hope relations between other global entities will not go to such extreme lengths. We must learn not by trial and error, but by bringing our resources together to prevent conflicts before escalation to unmanageable levels. Hope. That was, and still is, the key word. If all of us believe in peace strongly enough ‑‑ if we don’t lose hope ‑‑ perhaps one day the world will live in peace. Just like the Aggressor and the UA!
(Secretary of Defense Wildecat would like to add one word.)
Meow!
I am falling in love with failure. At least I’m trying. It is time I have to.
Window by John Akuppa Wigham, flickr 
Kimberly Townsend Palmer 
Reblogged this on Kimberly Townsend Palmer.
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