COCKROACHES

I don't know how long ago it was, but it's been decades, not years. I don't know where I was. It was probably a flophouse down a dark downtown street.

I don't remember who she was. Was she a prostitute, a one-night stand? Quien sabe? I can only speculate, but I'm certain she wasn't pretty and I'm certain I was drunk.

When you're horny, you can't think straight. When you're drunk and horny, you can't think period.

We were sleeping back to back. I was almost asleep when I heard giggling. I thought I might be dreaming, so I closed my eyes when I heard the giggling again.

"Stop tickling me," she laughed.

"Stop tickling you?"

"Yes, stop tickling me."

I had no idea what she was talking about. I turned toward her, pulled back the covers and to my disgust there were several cockroaches running up and down her back.

I have no memory of my reaction. I don't know if we weathered the night together or if I dressed and departed.

Being young and single, I suppose I could label that time as the good ol' days. I'm living the "golden years" now when aches and pains, financial burdens and family squabbles dominate my being.

Looking at my existence from my present perspective, sharing a bed with a floozy and several cockroaches doesn't seem so repulsive after all.

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