Act 1:

It started when I stepped out of the girls' bedroom last Friday. I had barely closed the door behind me when something tapped against my leg, and landed on a pile of boxes next to the door.

I had a better look at it - and jumped back in shock.

It was a cockroach.

I stepped back. My other sister, however, had a better reaction - she screamed and shut herself in the master bedroom.

I looked for something to kill that roach with, but before I could grab the letter knife the roach ran away - and I had my back turned to it when it vanished.

It decided to tick me off. When I went to fetch prints from the printer, my foot landed on something small and skittly, as it skittled from under my foot and back into hiding. And I knew what it was - and quickly washed my feet.

Act 2:

The next night, I headed to the bathroom to wash up - and found the roach next to the watercloset.

I did a double-take, grabbed the nearest aerosol can and sprayed the insect. It scampered away.

I checked the aerosol can - hair spray.

So the roach lived another night.

Act 3:

Three nights went by without the roach in sight. But, if I said only three nights, then what happened on the fourth night?

My little sister came into the room, all but slammed the door and looked at me.

The cockroach struck again - and returned to its place near the door.

I stepped out, and indeed it was there. I felt very brave, foolishly brave, enough to snip off its feelers or something, but my other sister - who unfortunately came on scene - was too frightened.

Another aerosol can was found and I sprayed a breath of lavender air freshener on the cockroach. It hid behind the clock.

Finale:

There and then, I had enough. Air freshener aside, I asked for the insect spray.

I began flushing out the cabinet, clock and junk pile by the door's side. The spray combed under, behind and through the stack.

When I reached a corner of the junk pile, the cockroach shot out. My sister screeched and jumped on top of a box, while I pursued it to the stairs.

One more spray enveloped the pest, and it had enough.

Before my eyes, it committed suicide - by running off the edge of the stairs.

I could not find the roach's body on the first floor of the house, but I was pretty sure the Roach Saga had finally ended.

And no more screaming from my sisters. Thank goodness.