Would you like some cockroach-coffee?

My step father is a contractor.

When I was younger and more readily at the same home he was I tagged along on a few of his building escapades for the fun, experience, and a bit of money to fill my pockets.

(Which at the time was simply amazing with my annual income of 0$)

One such adventure involved a coffee shop.

We strolled on in like the bad-asses we were; I even wore my flannel shirt for the occasion.

There was a problem only the likes of us manly men could fix,

Or so I gathered from the preceding conversation between my stepfather and the, what seemed to be, manager of this coffee selling establishment.

It was the counter top in the back, I didn’t even need to be told so, a cursory glance across the room told me in an instant.

I honed in on my target like a bee to a flower, stinger posed, and by that I mean hammer.

The wood was trashed, water damage from a damaged pipe long left unattended.

“Who knew that water could do so much damage?”

I will never understand why this man was in charge of a store.

My step father gave the sign. 

I lifted up the top of the cabinet. What must have been the screws holding it in place screamed trying to fulfill their job till the end, but to no avail. I lifted the top with ease (the top being the counter.)

Darkness swam below me as only a few rays of light pierced into the long unattended cabinet. Wait, swam? This is not a moment of nicely placed personification, it literally swam. My mind slowly clicked all the information into place just as the first one came into solitary view; cockroaches.

Dozens of them.

The next hour was one of the worst memories I have. A living nightmare. Cockroaches crawled over me as my stepfather and I valiantly destroyed their home to replace it with a new one.

But wait! there is more, as if cockroaches were not enough. That old cabinet was so destroyed that the screws had rusted, leaving deadly barbs of what surly must lead to tetanus sticking out all over the place on every board.

I had to let the cockroaches crawl over me as I moved the planks of old deadly wood, for the alternate fate of dropping them and stabbing myself was far worse.

I don’t remember where that fleece shirt went,

But I half suspect I burned it.