Target of Opportunity

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The cockroach was slightly smaller than her foot, but it was large enough to make the blonde scream and keep screaming until after the rest of the party had recovered and begun laughing. I could’ve explained that none of the cockroaches here/now carry any diseases that are dangerous to humans, but I knew it wouldn’t make any difference; it never does. Someone would be bound to trot out the theory that it was roaches, migrating across the land bridges, that would wipe out the dinosaurs, and that’s a symbol too powerful for any logic to stand against, even though it’s never been proven.

The blonde was still red-faced when we walked inside, and I half-expected the sight of the borogove to start her screaming again; instead, she dropped her backpack, hunkered down, and began talking to him in a thick but beautiful accent while her husband hung back. “What’s her name?” she asked, the accent gone.

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