Cockroach Obituary and Other Adventures

This is dedicated to the memory of O.N. Longineau III, whose short, unfulfilling life ended abruptly on March 21st at approximately 2am in the morning. I am happy to say that it was I who killed him. I whacked him with a broom as he scurried across the hall, presumably to meet his brother Frank.

Frank, as it turns out, was not, as Longineau had thought, across the hall , but was engaged in blatant fornication atop a bowl of bananas in the kitchen with a girl of obscure origins. Frank! You dirty, dirty old man! said I, for Frank had a wife and many children. I discovered Mrs Frank and the Franks as I rummaged through the shoe closet for a pair of sandals. Stop screaming! You'll wake little Ned, yelled Mrs Frank with silent consternation.

Mrs Frank had a cousin, Francois, who had recently taken residence in a small crack in the bathroom wall. Francois was quite clearly a man of breeding. When he saw, that morning, that I intended to bathe myself, he politely retreated into the dark recesses of his crack.

So you see, when Longineau died on that fateful March morning, he left behind thousands of friends and relatives who will remember him till the day they die.

Of course, I sprayed to house from top to bottom with Baygon the next day.