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Later, mostly asleep, I found that the static shocks would happen whether I kicked or not. They would occur in succession, up my arm for example, like a climbing bug.
I was mildly fascinated with this strange occurance. It would wake me, only for a few seconds.
After several hours of this, I would begin to slap my moist arms; an involuntary reaction to the sensation that resembled being crawled on. I would kick the bed and see the sparks light up again.
It was maybe three in the morning when I slapped at my arm again, and in my palm I felt a bulge, a crawling organic bulge. I looked at the bed and in the faint light, I could see it crawling away. A giant cockroach.
I was momentarily disgusted. The cockroach is our collective image of vileness and uncleanliness. |
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