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Roach Tells: The "Rant"

Honestly I’m pretty upset. And that’s rare for me. This is Faje by the way. I’ve had tons of friends, who mean a lot to me, suddenly start acting all weird around me. They usually made fun of my little mandibles; and though that does hurt my feelings, the thing that makes me the most upset is everything that’s happened with the rat. Or as they call it, the “rant.” 

The other roaches don’t think I pay much attention to the human world. And though I’m no pollentician — I pay more attention than they think. And one thing I distinctly know — is that the fuzzy long-toothed creature with a werm for a tale — is called a fr-eaking “rat.”

Sorry, I’m usually not this upset about stuff, but everything that’s happened recently really rubs me the wrong way. I’ve lost all my friends. And worst of all, they say it’s all my fault. 


NOW THAT ALL THE humans are gone we’ve gone outside of the house a lot more. We found a lot more food and that’s good, but now that there are no more humans we’re all getting pretty reckless. The rat randomly showed up under the highway one day.

I was there the first time we all happened upon it. We went under the highway by the house a lot. When I first saw the rat I expected it to either try and munch on me or run away. It did neither. It just sat there and stared blankly at nothing. It gave me a bad feeling. I’d never seen a rat act like this. 

I stayed back while the other roaches took a huge interest in it. Marco was the first to touch it. At first Marco was scared, but when he realized the rat wasn’t trying to eat him, and was just sitting there — he told a bunch of other roaches about it. 

I think the reason they were so fascinated was because they had always been afraid of rats, and now they could get all up close to one. But even though the rat wouldn’t attack us, I didn’t feel safe.

That’s when they first started bugging me to come back with them. I said yes the first few times, but every time I confessed my feelings of fear — they would laugh at me and tell me I was clothesminded. But more than my fear of it, the thing that annoyed them the most was that I insisted on calling it a rat. Other people called it different names at first like me, but eventually they all gave up their names for it and pretty much everyone but me now calls it a “rant.”

The last time I went to the highway, I noticed a big white moth watching us from the corner under the bridge. It looked very hungry and was shaking slightly. I pointed it out, but no one listened to me. I got pretty fed up with it all and stopped going. Unfortunately, that didn’t solve my problems.

Not too long ago, the roaches put the rat on their back and drugged him into our living room. There were no more humans around and I think we honestly were all a bit bored. The rat being in the house now made it a lot harder for me to avoid. I would pass by it on my way to the kitchen and see it there — just looking at nothing. 

It worried me how much the roaches neglected everything they used to be interested in. It took over their whole life. The roaches that made cool little sculptures, or clothes — now only made stuff for the rat. It took over every aspect of their life. 


ONE DAY I NOTICED that the white moth was now in the corner of the living room — it had followed us here. As soon as it saw me looking at it, it came down and landed right in front of me. I scurried away afraid it would eat me. All the roaches laughed at me. Except for the moth. He just put up his little eating arms and lowered his big fuzzy smellers on the tip of his head in a submissive way.

In a deep and reassuring voice he said to me, “I mean you no harm.” I didn’t buy it. “I’ve heard lots about you, little Faje,” he said to me all buddy-buddy. I did not like that. He smelled super good, and he was really soft, but I did not trust him. He tried to convince me to check out the rat with him, but I left without saying a word. Eventually the moth convinced them all to leave the house. It broke my little hart. 

The roaches come back and visit every once in a while. But they’re always mad at me. I just try not to bring up the rat, but it seems like it’s the only thing they want to talk about. And when they bring it up, they get mad at me for not having changed my mind yet. It’s like all they see me as now is a rat-hater. I’m not just a rat-hater. I don’t even really hate rats. I guess I am a “rant”-hater. I hate what it’s done to my frendshrips. But no matter how much I miss my friends, I’m not willing to trust that alluring moth, and the mindless rat.





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