Silverfish. Oh how I hate you
I tried to be nice. I bought little sticky traps that were supposed to keep you stuck in a box where you would not suffer or die, but live happily in one place, unmoving, feasting upon glue and cardboard. It could have been win-win. You would have a gluttonous life and I would not have to be horrified to find 7 of you on the floor in the morning, unmoving, pretending not to be there until I step into the room and all of you scatter. Do you know how frightening that is? When you don’t move you look like a smudge, a small shoe scuff or a piece of dirt. We keep the place clean, but with all the ash in the area, it’s impossible to be spotless, so you blend in. Screw you silverfish. You did not hold up your end of the deal. I get nice surprises at night when I find you by the bed or in the bathroom and again in the morning when I catch you in the kitchen, bathroom and closet.
It’s time for you to die
I found a lovely powder that will poison you and if you do not die from ingestion then you will die from it “drying you out”. Boo ya. You touch it and it sucks all the moisture out of your disgusting little body. That’s what you get for not cooperating with the female resident who is afraid of all things creepy and crawly, and you are both. You have 5-7 business days (or until it gets here) to clear out before I start the genocide.
Memo to you, Silverfish. This is a Megan residential area now. Please accept this as your official eviction notice.
