Yesterday I ate a cockroach

I wrote this on a whim while sitting in a food court after lunch, then polished it and entered in to the Bridport Flash Fiction competition. It didn’t win.

Yesterday, I ate a cockroach. I was surprised at the experience. The crunchiness I was expecting; but not the fullness of flavour. Distaste was fighting hunger, and I didn’t notice what the first tasted of. I did with the second one, though.

The real difficulty is in the movement to the mouth. I didn’t want to kill them first because that would be messy, and putting oozing cockroach juice in my mouth I could not face. The legs were going mad and I could feel the wings trying to open.

I got the first one into my mouth on the first attempt. The second took four goes. I kept using the excuse of clearing my mouth, but finally the last scratchy leg was swallowed, and in the second went. 

Five cockroaches are not very filling. I didn’t feel much energy flow from them, but the action of eating felt positive. My spirits lifted. But then again, they didn’t, really; cockroach eating is pretty low. 

I can see six cockroaches from where I lie. They are easy to catch. 

There are more when it rains.

I wonder what I will do today?