La Cucaracha, The Jr Version
There’s times when a man just has to make changes in his life in order to get ahead. And sometimes you just need to sing along.
“Edwardo was a different kinda roach,” Jr spoke into the microphone of an old tape recorder he’d found a few days before when carrying out a hundred years of family keepsakes from the attic to the barn to slow the sagging ceiling’s eventual collapse. “While most roaches hated it, Edwardo loved the song, La Cucaracha ’cause he said it proved that roaches is superior to humans”
“What are you doing in there,” Mable shouted.
“I’m makin’ a record,” Earnest Jr answered as he fumbled to stop recording.
“Okay,” Mable shouted again, “just as long as you ain’t doin’ what I saw you doin’ the last time I walked into your room.”
“Oh no, Maw,” Jr answered. “I’m not doin’ that, my arm is sore.”
“A lot more than your arm will be sore if I see that again,” Mable commented as she turned to walk away.
“Edwardo believed that roaches is superior to human beans,” Jr continued recording. “And while he didn’t understand the cockroaches ’cause they all was Germans, he understood American real good…”
“What’s he up to now?” Earnest asked as Mable walked back into the family room to sit beside Earnest and watch the old black and white TV Jr had found in the attic.
“He’s makin’ a record,” Mable answered.
“What kind of record?” Earnest asked. “He already has the records for the longest rock throwin’ in in five counties.”
“Six,” Mable replied. “He won in Darcey County just last week while you was away hauling produce.”
“So that’s why you wouldn’t let me take him with me to unload,” Earnest laughed. “How much did he win?”
“The prize was a hundred dollars,” Mable snickered, “but he thinks he only got ten.”
“Boy wouldn’t have a penny if you weren’t squirrelin’ it away,” Earnest smiled.
Inside his room, Jr continued, “Edwardo had a plan to take over the world. First he would recruit the flying roaches to drop pebbles on everyone to make a constant aerial bombardment, then he would get the cockroaches to begin their ground assault. As soon as he learned how to speak German. Then he would…”
“So why is Jr’s arm sore?” Earnest asked in earnest, “He’s got the state championship comin’ up next week, don’t want him hurtin’.”
“ ‘Specially bein’ the grand prize is a thousand dollars cash money,” Mable agreed. “He was doin’ repetitions lifting his bed up and down tryin’ to build up his arm.”
“Figures,” Earnest laughed. “How much does Jr think it is?”
“I tole’ him he could win a hundred dollars,” Mable answered. “It’s a good thing he can’t read.”
“So what are you doin’ with the money?” Earnest asked. “If you bury it he’s bound to find it an dig it up.”
“I’m puttin’ it in his college fund,” Mable answered.
“College fund,” Earnest laughed. “that boy’s almost forty years old — he ain’t never goin’ to no college ‘less they need somebody to mow or carry out the garbage.”
“Jr doesn’t know that,” Mable explained. “ ‘Sides, the college fund is tax deductible.”
“That’s good,” Earnest smiled. “That boy won’t never be smart enough to file taxes.”
“You never filed taxes before you married me,” Mable laughed aloud. “Guess he come about it honest.” Earnest looked over his reading glasses shaking his head.
Back in his room Jr continued recording, “Then he’s gonna’ get the red and black ants to make peace sos they and the murder hornets could join in the fight. They’ll attack so fast the humans won’t be able to make enough bug spray to beat them all back.”
The next week, as the family was gathered to celebrate his recent victory at the state rock throwin’ contest, Jr set the old tape recorder to play back his recording to Mable and Earnest, but when he pushed play all they heard was a hissing sound coming from the speaker. “Guess their ain’t gonna’ be any invading,” Jr moaned.
“That’s okay, Honey,” Mable consoled him. “The military don’t allow no rock throwin’ anyway.”
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Continued in Jr Goes to the Moon
