The chittering, clacking behemoth turned its entire broad body towards me, frantically waving its long antennae. "Oh, no! You mustn't be alarmed! It's just me, old Gregor Samsa, here to bring you wonderful gifts for your library!"
Somewhat mollified, I released my hold on the implement and took a tentative step closer. "Is that so? Well thank you, mighty cockroach. That is very kind."
"You're welcome!" The beast seemed to relax, and headed towards the kitchen. I followed him.
"Wonderful things, I tell you," he continued, as he poured himself a coffee cut with Bailey's. "There are films -- beautiful films! -- of a large yellow bird visiting far China, of a kindly spider (can you believe it?) weaving a web that saves her porcine friend's life, of -- AHHHH!!! Ack, ack, cough, cough..."
The aerosol can felt as though it was floating in my hand. It was empty.
The creature's voice became tiny now, cracked and shaky. "Raid...why...?"
I shrugged, and grabbed the broom. "Sorry. Habit."
