Scientists estimate that, at any given moment, the earth holds approximately 10 quintillion insects. The way they have calculated this is by knocking on my door and asking me how many bugs I have seen scurrying across my kitchen. (For reference, 10 quintillion is the same number used to describe, on a scale of one to ten, how embarrassing it would be if the high school cheerleading team found out that you had parents.)
In fact, to all appearances, my dorm has lately become some kind of bug Mecca. Every manner of six and eight legged fiend has been pilgrimaging to my kitchen floor as its last mortal venture. Since I've moved in these devout insectoids have been scurrying about, dropping from the walls, and leaving their little carcasses in piles in the ostentatious mausoleum of my hallway.
So I have decided to deal with this problem how any modern, civilized, eco-conscious person would go about it: I have put up a little sign at the base of my exterior door informing the insects and arachnids that they shall no longer be admitted to the premises.
Now I can turn to an altogether more pressing question, which is how to reanimate the ubiquitous corpses to fill the ranks of my planned evil zombie cockroach army.
Cower, mortals, for your doom is nigh!
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