“MAMA! HELP!” she screamed and jumped on the sofa, hiding her face behind her long hair.

Her mother hurried into the living room. “What happen?”

“A roach!” she squealed, pointing her finger.

Mama stepped closer to the dark, suspicious blotch in the corner. She raised her slipper in the air, then, smack!

“Did you kill it?” daughter asked.

She screeched again when Mama turned around, holding a ball of black stuff between her fingers.

Mama pursed her lips and said, “didn't I tell you not to brush your hair in the living room?”