Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The Parrot Died
At dawn the telephone rings . . .
"Hello, Senor Rod?" This is Ernesto, the caretaker at your lake house in Bella Vista."
"Ah yes, Ernesto. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?"
"Um, I am just calling to advise you, Senor Rod, that your parrot, he is dead."
"My parrot? Dead? The one that won the International competition?"
"Si, Senor, that's the one."
"Damn! That's a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he die from?"
"From eating the rotten meat, Senor Rod."
"Rotten meat? Who the hell fed him rotten meat?"
"Nobody, Senor. He ate the meat of the dead horse."
"Dead horse? What dead horse?"
"The thoroughbred, Senor Rod."
"My prize thoroughbred is dead?"
"Yes, Senor Rod, he died from all that work pulling the water cart."
"Are you insane?? What water cart?"
"The one we used to put out the fire, Senor."
"Good Lord!! What fire are you talking about, man??"
"The one that destroyed your house, Senor! A candle fell and the curtains caught on fire."
"What the hell?? Are you saying that my house is destroyed because of a candle??!!"
"Yes, Senor Rod."
"But there's electricity at the house!! What was the candle for?"
"For the wake, Senor Rod."
"WHO’S BLOODY WAKE??!!"
"Your wife's, Senor Rod. She showed up very late one night and I thought she was a thief, so I hit her with your new Taylor Made Super Quad 460 golf club."
"Ernesto, if you broke that driver, you're in deep shit !