What Happened o Mr. Roach?

Mr. Roach was last seen alive on the night of the 5^th of April in the year 2013. He had just left his residence and had started going about his business when he was beset by four of his deadliest enemies. They worked in tandem to capture and assassinate him. He fled for his life, using the utmost skill to dodge his foes and to escape with his life. When I saw him, he was in terrible danger, almost overcome by one of his fatal enemies. He was running helter-skelter, leaping here and there and generally making desperate efforts to flee or hide.

I tried to help him; it did not work. He did not understand that my efforts were targeted at a rescue; he fled from me until I could no longer be of any service. He ran into the dark, narrow crevice where neither his enemies nor I could touch him. Perhaps he hoped that he had finally cheated death. Perhaps he just wanted to rest before making a final dash for liberty. Who knows? I could not wait around for him to emerge. I had done what I could. His fate was out of my hands now. I left, while his assailants sat down nearby, unable to follow him but still hungry for his blood and willing to wait.

Next morning, I saw a part of one of his legs being carried away by ants in the bedroom. Another part of a leg was found under the living room window. I had no idea where the rest of him was, though it was all too clear what had happened. I could surmise that he must have gotten tired of waiting and, thinking that the coast was clear or even knowing that it wasn’t and too desperate to wait further, he had made a mad dash to freedom. And had failed. I do not know which of his foes dealt the final blow or when. I was, however, curious to know what had happened to his body. Even a thorough search failed to uncover the corpse. It was a mystery.

Hours later, close to midnight, I learn that his body had been found by my husband that morning. It had already been too late by then. My husband had disposed off his body. That was why I had failed to find any traces of him besides the two torn fragments of his legs. The mystery was solved. I felt sorry but I could not reproach myself with his death; I had done all that I could have done.

RIP Mr. Roach, Mr. Cock Roach.