New Year’s Eve

It’s 2014 and I feel funny, not sick funny, but laugh funny. So here’s a little New Year’s Eve story for you that I have no idea the ending or the moral, or anything.

On the last day of 2013 this talking cockroach named Ickybod was kicked back in his dust bunny recliner watching the 800 millionth blow-them-up movie that the owner of the house insisted on viewing on his unbelievably gynormous flat screen, to finish the year out. The longer Ickybod watched, the more agitated he became. Thoughts of violence  rushed through his mind, some having to do with how he might get control of the remote, and others, complete with video, of inciting a cockroach rebellion to do in the owner and take control of the house.

About this time, the owner paused the violence to go to the toilet. Ickybod saw his chance. He wrenched himself from the recliner, rushed to the remote and pushed it off the end table. Hearing the flush, he sped down the table leg and shoved the remote under the couch. Lucky for him, the Mrs. did not see him. When the owner returned to the familiar imprint in the sofa cushion, Ickybod heard him ask the Mrs., “Where did you put the remote?”

“I never touched it,” she responded without looking up from the book she used to help quiet the explosions.

“Well, it was right here, and remotes don’t get up and walk away.”

Ickybod started laughing. He couldn’t help it. He laughed and then he laughed louder.

“What is that noise?” the Mrs. wondered aloud.

“I thought it was you,” the owner said.

“Sounds like a cockroach laughing to me,” the Mrs. responded.

The owner looked under cushions and behind glasses. “And you would know that because?”

The Mrs. put down her book and looked into the eyes of her beloved. “I’ve been meaning to tell you we have a talking cockroach in the house.”

“Why didn’t you kill it?”

“Kill it! How many talking cockroaches do you think there are in the world? Besides, he can quote Shakespeare.”

“If he could quote Sylvester Stallone or Arnold or Van Damme, I’d be a whole lot more impressed.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“What would he be laughing about?”

Ickybod could take it no longer. “I’m laughing because I hid the remote, and I’ll only give it back if you turn to New Year’s Rockin’ Eve so I get to watch the ball drop.”

He had talked too long. The owner had followed his voice, and instead of the ball dropping, the shoe was. The cockroach screamed. “To be or not to …

The moral might be: Don’t wait for the other shoe to drop – or something else, I’m not sure.

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