Herpes the Cockroach has indeed been relocated and caught. After he initially disappeared yesterday, falling into a pile of Wal*mart bags, he teleported to the ceiling and was scuttling about with glee up there for a while. Given his history of falling from walls and ceilings, I nervously stood under him with an open cardboard box, hoping to catch him if he lost his grip. It would have been so convenient to then just walk the box outside and throw it in the dumpster... and then to obviously light the whole thing on fire.
Alas, dear Herpes refused to fall from the ceiling, choosing instead to fall asleep at a corner above my desk, too close to the ceiling for me to reach. Unable to access my computer for fear of him leaping upon my head, I sat across the room on the spare bed and angrily stared at him, trying to summon laser beams from my eyes. When that plan failed, I grabbed my miniature ironing board, threw a plastic bag over one end of it, stood upon the chair next to the desk, and chickened out. Fifteen minutes later, I finally summoned the courage to smash him to pieces. Unfortunately, he dodged the massive object hurtling toward his body and instead fell from the wall, disappearing in midair.
I, of course, freaked out at the sight of a flying cockroach, so I thrust the ironing board out of my hands, knocking several things off my desk and almost breaking my flat-panel monitor. I fled to my escape hatch, also know as the shower. I knew for a fact that Herpes couldn't get into the bathroom from my dorm room, but that didn't stop me from shaking as I tried to wash away my fears along with the soap residue from my body.
Since Herpes the Cockroach was still MIA when I finished showering, I grabbed some piano music and left my room. A few hours later, I called up Danielpants, insisting that he come meet me for coffee at the school's coffee shop. After coffee, lunch, and much other stalling, I finally went back to my room, weary and in need of sleep. I decided that I was going to just crawl in bed and sleep, feigning ignorance in an attempt to regain the bliss that accompanies it. After all, had Herpes not landed in a pile of Wal*mart bags (twice), I wouldn't have heard him, seen him, or noticed him for who knows how long.
I began removing pieces of my bedding one by one, shaking them out as I did so. Each piece that did not contain a cockroach was lovingly placed on a nearby chair after receiving a "thank you" and a hug. The sheets, blankets, and comforter were all deemed to be clean, and I had just finished putting the last piece back on when I noticed that part of my feather bed was slipping out over the edge of the mattress. I gave that a shake, when plop! Herpes fell to the ground.
For the first time since he and I had met, I allowed myself to shriek like the girl that I am. I flailed about helplessly, expecting him to make a mad dash for my leg, which he would then climb up and devour.
Instead, Herpes was just as frightened by the whole experience as I was, and he wandered rather drunkenly across my floor. This gave me enough time to dash across the room, grab a styrofoam cup, decide that he wouldn't fit under that, grab a styrofoam bowl, and capture him.
Let me tell you... The most awful part of the whole experience was the sound and feeling of Herpes trying to escape the bowl from under my hand. He went absolutely haywire for a full two or three seconds before finally settling down to plot my demise in silence.
Google couldn't tell me whether or not cockroaches could eat through styrofoam (though roaches did apparently lay eggs in styrofoam headstones that one person created for Halloween), so I encased the styrofoam bowl in a tupperware container. Both are still sitting on my floor as we speak. Hopefully, Herpes hasn't tunneled through the floor. I'd probably get fined for that.
Meanwhile, I get to wait until tomorrow night when the boys are allowed up to my room before anything more can be done. I'm sure the school would frown upon me putting my roommate in the freezer or setting him on fire or flushing him down the toilet, but sometimes, these things must be done.
Besides, he totally doesn't listen to the same music I do, and his alarm always wakes me up in the morning. Obviously, this punk is asking for it.