I have bugs

One job I had in college was working at a corner store chain called Wilson Farms. Between the crack heads and the petty thieves I ran into some real, um, characters there. There was an asian family that spoke virtually no English who collected bottles. The mom and the kid on one team and the dad on his own. The dad was sweet. The mom was insane. She always brought in Canadian bottles and yelled at me in Chineese when I couldn't take them. One hot summer day she had once again brought in a shopping cart-load of filthy cans and began furiously lining them up on the bottle counter. They stank of rot and were sticky. I wanted to get them taken care of quickly so I was grabbing them as as fast as she put them up. I was almost gagging. Thew were wet and disgusting. I had to mentally remove myself from reality to touch them. I don't know if she was cracked out or hungry or what, but she was moving so quickly that the remains of whatever was in the cans was splashing all over the place, including all over me. I motioned for her to slow down but she only moved faster-- a little filthy Chinese blur throwing putrid old canadian pop all over my face. And then it happened. I remember it like you'd remember seeing your grandfather getting hit by a train, vividly, in slow motion and with great detail. She picked up a yellow can and banged it down on the counter. I heard a faint clink as it tipped over. A wave of moldy pop washed out and I saw a little face looking at me from inside the can. It didn't hesitate, it ran across a few inches of counter and right up my apron and onto my neck. I am told I screamed out. I didnt hear myself. I grabbed it off of my neck and threw it as far as I could. The line at the register that I had been ignoring stopped complaining and now the line of bikers and crackheads and angry as hell single moms were rapt and horrified, watching my every move with compassion. In the distance I saw the little fucker crawl unscathed under the apple it landed on. With the store in complete silence I darted over to the sink and grabbed the waterless hand sanitizer and proceded to dump half the bottle on my neck. I can still feel its tiny quick moving feet. Maya Angelou might know why the caged bird sings, but I know what makes the Wilson Farms crack heads shutter. Yes friends it was a huge cockroach.