I am under attack from the GFRS--Giant Flying Roach Squad. You remember last spring don't you? When I declared war on the roaches? It was a hard season for the war, but I was ultimately victorious. But the roaches are back...and this time they brought the big guns.

It all started a week or so ago when I came home and went into my bathroom late one night. There on the floor playing dead was a member of the GFRS. I wasn't fooled. I knew he lay there on his back to offer the illusion of death so that I would lean in close providing the perfect opportunity to spring into flight and dive bomb my head. I walked into my closet, picked up a large shoe, returned to the bathroom and smashed the shit out of the fucker.

I had been right. He wasn't dead. But he was when I was done with him.

Apparently he had only been a scout. War was declared at midnight on June 5th, 2009. My roommate, quiet and unsuspecting turned to see what she thought was a moth flying around her bedroom. It was not a moth; it was, in fact, a bomber from the GFRS. Understandably upset at this mutated monster circling her room she killed him dead, but no sooner was he gone and another took his place. It's been three days now and the fighting has been rough. Their side bears many casualties, but our side is not unscathed.

Earlier this evening while watching Quarentine, a movie I didn't expect to scare me half as bad as it did, I heard (HEARD) Red Leader push his massive frame through our air conditioning vent and launch his attack. Petrified from the movie, unprepared for so bold a maneuver, we screamed in surprise and I barely jumped off the futon before vile spawn of Satan landed right where my head had been. Measuring a solid four inches in length, the antennae extended another two, twitching as it attempted to discern my whereabouts. Assessing the situation I decided such an unwarranted attack on my person could not be ignored and I picked up a tennis shoe and screamed my bloodthirsty screech of anger as I beat the life out of it.

Their trying to wear us down. Haranguing us day and night we are offered no quarter, no rest as we never know from which direction the next attack will come. I have heartburn from the stress of trying to keep my spirits up as I attempt to snatch a victory from the jaws of their vastly superior numbers. Right now I estimate they have us outnumbered approximately 1,000 to 1. It will be a close battle, but I'm still hopeful we can persevere.

I write this war journal now in case we lose the front. If my body is lost under the swarm of the GFRS I want there to be record of my existence and the bravery that took place in this small, modest apartment. Courage has been seen here and true heroism. The human spirit has been tested and proven its worth. We are an apartment of English majors and we bleed text. We won't go down easy, but if we can't find a way to get rest--just a few moments here and there--they might overcome. If that happens don't mourn. Cheer for all the evil we destroyed in our battles and pick up where we left off. Don't let them take the apartment. Promise you won't let them win. More than just our home is at stake here, the very values by which we live could be threatened.

Good night and God bless.