Ken the Cockroach, son of Kenstar, the appliance company, watches me from the window of my microwave oven every day. I noticed him around a week back, and now he makes regular appearances at the window.
Why do I call him Ken, son of Kenstar? Because I cannot figure out how a cockroach entered the door of my microwave, and why he can’t get out, and must theorize that Kenstar chose me, perhaps their millionth customer, for the gift of a cockroach egg sealed in the door of their microwave. It took a year for the egg to hatch, and for the roach to grow full size. Perhaps the roach has been “eating” the fumes of food that probably travel through the small crack, which is enough for fumes to get through, but too small for a large cockroach to exit.
Or else, the roach entered while a baby, and now, having grown up, finds it is unable to leave, as in the Roach Motels—“roaches check in, but don’t check out.”
At first I was concerned about using the microwave: what if the cockroach went SPLAT! I just hoped he would go away. But no, he refuses (or is it a she?). So finally, I’ve started using the microwave again, and though he usually slinks off the corner of the door, where he’s probably more protected from the microwave radiation, what if as a result of his strange habitat, he’s become a Super Cockroach, one that can withstand and survive a hydrogen bomb blast? What if this was part of a secret CIA project to breed cockroaches that could conquer China and defeat the Taliban?
Despite my awe at his obvious superiority and his pedigree, I am somewhat dismayed by the sight of a cockroach every few hours when I enter the kitchen, and I humbly request Kenstar to simply remove their microwave oven, along with Ken the Roach, and to refund my money. So that I can buy a different model, one that doesn’t permit cockroach entry or freely gift unsuspecting customers with cockroaches.
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