Claire called the other night.
“We got Carlos.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s Carlos and he’s dead.”
“Did you kill him?” I whispered.
“Finally. He put up quite a struggle and we had to chase him, but we got him. He’s dead.”
“Well, play the music real loud. Carlos deserves at least that much.”
“OK, Dad-0, will do. Ciao!” *click*
Carlos, RIP, was the condo cockroach. About two inches long, shiny, dark brown, six legs. He had been scurrying around the place for months causing havoc, screams, cockroach dancing (not unlike the hot chili dance or the spider dance) and general mayhem.
Carlos’ demise required music in celebration.
I suggested the album “Mexican Spaghetti Western” by Chingon.
First, they have a track, Malaguena Salerosa, from Kill Bill 2, the best movie of all time.
Second, and I hope Carlos, RIP, is paying attention to this from Cockroach Heaven, they play Cuka Rocka (extended) and I didn’t even know you could play a guitar that fast. When I hear that song I’m ready to dance like nobody’s looking. The Cucaracha Dance. I'm John Travolta. I'm Napoleon Dynamite.
Chingon is Killer Music.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
That is good news. And funny news. Since you're familiar with housepets, what do you say of a gecko. Friend or foe? At the very least we'll name him in honor of Carlos, RIP.
Cockroaches have serious respect for Come Together.
Um, well, is it wierd that Carlos died on the day that is also MY birthday? Have I some how absorbed his spirit into mine? Boggles the mind.
I high school my best friend Bean and I killed the world giganticest cockroach ever in the entire planet. We zapped him with a half can of Raid on the back porch and then cut out a tomb stone of paper that said R.I.P. Mr. Cockroach.
Her mom wasn't too happy the next morning to find that monsterous carcas.
Post a Comment