I’ve made a few revisions since this version, as this is only the first draft, but I didn’t particularly feel like typing them all in right now. 🙂
The assignment was to write something humorous from an event or something that’s happened to you. I’m not that great of a humor writer, but I suppose this isn’t too bad. I tried my best to cut out cliches and cheesy humor junk.
Anyway, tell me what you think.
I lay peacefully in my bed, my head buried in the pillow and falling asleep to the whir of my fan, the tickle of its light breeze on my feet. It was nearly midnight, and I was on the brink of being asleep for the night, when I felt something tickle my arm.
Ugh, what if that’s some bug or something? I thought groggily. I closed my eyes and attempted to go back to sleep. It wasn’t more than a few seconds when what felt like tiny legs stepped onto my arm, very much uninvited.
This is silly. I’m freaking myself out, it’s probably just the fan blowing my blanket across my arm or something. I assured myself. Nevertheless, I rolled over to check anyway. And that’s when I felt those little feet scamper up my arm and onto my shoulder. Funny how you can go from sleeping to mach III in seconds, with just the help of a simple cockroach. I leapt out of bed before I was even fully aware of what was happening and stood in the middle of my room for a minute, watching the rude little brown bug crawl quickly behind my pillows.
What do I do now? I wondered. I didn’t feel like destroying my nicely arranged pillows to find it, but I didn’t particularly want to risk encountering the roach again. Finally, I went into my mom’s room, where she sat on the end of the bed, watching TV and petting the cat.
“There’s a roach in my bed!” I declared.
She laughed and asked whether it was still alive.
I nodded. “It crawled on me a minute ago, and disappeared in my pillows. Blehhh!”
We both laughed at this as I sat down beside her.
“Well, what are you going to do now?” My mom asked.
I had no idea. I certainly did not want to climb back into bed with a cockroach peacefully nestled in my pillows.
After a few more minutes of recounting the story and laughing until we each got a bad case of the hiccups, my mom and I made our way into my room to investigate the scene of the attack. We tossed all eight hundred (or seven) of my pillows onto the floor, and shook out my comforter. Either the roach had turned invisible, or it was hiding elsewhere.
I perched gingerly on the edge of my bed. “Where could it be?” I wondered aloud. My mom took a seat next to me. “I don’t know, cookie bearra.”
We sat silence for a few moments, contemplating what the next step was, until I noticed my mom staring at something across the room. I poked her. “What are you staring at?” I asked.
“Is that it?” She pointed to my closet door, where the small brown beast did indeed rest.
I jumped up from my bed, picked up a flip flop, and slowly walked to my closet. I crouched and looked close at the bug, trying to gauge whether it’d be a fast one or not. He wasn’t moving much, so I swung the flip flop and knocked him onto the floor. I kept pounding, and the cockroach kept walking.
“It won’t die!” I slapped at the floor ruthlessly.
While I was laughing, I slammed the flip flop down on top of the roach particularly hard, and as I brought the shoe up into the air to gain leverage for the next attack, I saw something small and brown sailing toward my face, then felt something small and smooth touch the inside of my lip.
That did NOT just happen. I thought to myself as I jumped back. I saw the roach fall from my mouth. “EWW! It just went into my mouth!” I yelled, after one last fatal blow to the beast.
“Are you serious?” my mom asked.
I put my weapon down, nodding. “I think I’m going to go brush my teeth now…” I said, beginning to laugh.
The laughter didn’t stop until well into the night, and still continues to this day whenever my mom or I think about the incident with the roach.