Craig squinted through one eye, the other squeezed shut in concentration. He wasn't trying to achieve nirvana, just a roach-free counter. Armed with a can of Raid and a grimace, he balanced precariously on a chair, aiming at a particularly smug-looking cockroach scuttling across the granite.
A loud rapping at the door sent the roach scattering and Craig tumbling off the chair with a yelp. "Coming!" he hollered, rubbing his backside. He straightened his rumpled shirt and opened the door to find Pastor John and his wife, Deborah, standing on the porch with bright smiles.
"Craig! Good to see you!" boomed Pastor John, his booming voice at odds with his slight frame. Deborah, ever the diplomat, gave Craig a warm smile. "We thought we'd drop by and see how you're doing."
Craig, ever the hospitable soul, ushered them in despite the domestic chaos. Dishes piled high in the sink, a trail of crumbs led from the pantry to a shadowy corner, and a half-eaten can of Raid sat precariously on the counter – roach war evidence.
"Sorry about the mess," Craig mumbled, gesturing vaguely at the room. "Been a bit…busy."
Deborah's smile faltered slightly, her eyes landing on the Raid can. "Everything alright, Craig? You don't seem yourself."
Craig sighed. "It's the cockroaches," he confessed. "They've declared war on my kitchen."
John chuckled. "Well, maybe we can offer some spiritual guidance to those little heathens." He winked at Deborah, who rolled her eyes fondly.
Suddenly, a green blur shot across the room, landing with a graceful plop on the curtain beside the window. All three stared, open-mouthed, at the creature perched there – a magnificent praying mantis, its alien limbs folded in a posture of serene menace.
"Well, that escalated quickly," Craig finally managed.
John, ever the optimist, boomed, "Looks like God sent you some backup, Craig!"
Deborah, however, was not as enthusiastic. "A praying mantis? In the house? Craig, how did this even happen?"
Craig shrugged, the encounter with the roach momentarily forgotten. "Honestly, no idea. Maybe it wandered in seeking refuge from the cockroach apocalypse?"
The next hour was a whirlwind of activity. Deborah, surprisingly adept with a broom, gently ushered the mantis outside, while John offered sage advice (mostly about keeping the kitchen clean) and fervent prayers for roach eradication. Craig, meanwhile, mentally composed a grocery list that began with roach traps and ended with a gallon of heavy-duty cleaner.
As John and Deborah said their goodbyes, Deborah squeezed Craig's arm. "We'll be praying for you, Craig. Against the roaches, and for a slightly less…wild menagerie."
Craig chuckled. "Thanks, Deborah. Maybe next time, I'll just stick to spiritual guidance." He watched them drive away, then turned back to the kitchen. The mantis was gone, but a newfound determination flickered in his eyes. "Alright, roaches," he muttered, brandishing the can of Raid. "Let's finish this."
Draft 2
Craig winced as he heard the doorbell chime. He wasn't exactly expecting company, especially not his pastor, Reverend Henderson, and his wife, Mildred. He'd been battling a two-pronged war at home: an escalating cockroach infestation and Dennis, the rather sizeable praying mantis Craig had relocated from his garden.
"Hold on a sec!" he called out, shoving a stray cockroach under the fridge with his foot. He wasn't sure how the mantis would react to the visitors, and frankly, he didn't want to find out. Dennis, currently perched regally on a potted fern, seemed content munching on a hapless fly. Craig wasn't sure Mildred, a woman who fainted at the sight of a spider, would appreciate the unorthodox pest control.
Taking a deep breath, Craig opened the door. "Reverend Henderson! Mildred, what a surprise." He tried for a casual smile, failing miserably.
"Craig, my boy! How lovely to see you," boomed the Reverend, a portly man with a booming voice. Mildred, a wisp of a woman with tightly curled hair, offered a thin smile. "We were just in the neighborhood and thought we'd drop by."
"That's...that's great," Craig stammered, ushering them in. He strategically positioned himself between them and the fern.
"My, it looks lovely in here, Craig," Mildred said, her eyes widening as they landed on the fern. "Is that...?"
"An orchid!" Craig blurted. "Yes, an orchid. Very delicate, needs lots of…" he trailed off, hoping she wouldn't reach out.
"Isn't that wonderful, Mildred?" the Reverend boomed, completely oblivious. He settled himself on the couch, making it groan in protest.
Craig perched on the edge of a chair, his eyes glued to Dennis. The mantis paused mid-fly, its triangular head swiveling towards the visitors.
Suddenly, with a speed that belied its size, Dennis launched himself off the fern. Craig yelped, bracing himself for Mildred's inevitable scream. But instead, there was a startled yelp from the Reverend.
Dennis had landed, not on Mildred, but on the Reverend's bald head. The man swatted at the mantis, who clung on with surprising tenacity. Mildred, instead of fainting, burst out laughing.
"Oh, Harold! Look at you!" she wheezed, tears welling up in her eyes.
The Reverend spluttered, a mixture of fear and indignation on his face. Craig, unable to contain himself any longer, doubled over with laughter.
The tension broken, Craig sheepishly explained the cockroach problem and his unconventional solution. To his surprise, the Reverend chuckled.
"Well, Craig," he boomed, "it seems you've found a rather… unorthodox way to deal with your pest problem."
Mildred, wiping tears from her eyes, patted Craig's shoulder. "Just make sure Dennis doesn't develop a taste for clergymen, alright?"
The rest of the afternoon was filled with laughter and surprisingly deep theological discussions (apparently, there was a surprising amount of scripture about insects). As the Reverend and Mildred left, Craig thanked them, feeling a warmth he hadn't expected. He looked at Dennis, who was now peacefully preening himself on the fern.
"Maybe," Craig said with a smile, "unorthodox isn't so bad after all."
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