La Cucarracha

Pepinoville saw the snow fly this week. After days of gloomy slop, this place is finally looking like winter, for crying out loud. Snow, and freezing temperatures have overcome the effects of global warming this week. We love it. Folks don't realize, but the cold keeps the cockroaches small. Snowbirds figure that out right quick. There are bugs down south that'd make an Orkin man squeal.
Pepino Suave recalls a cockroach as big as a saucer. It was back in the early nineties, when our pickled pal lived in the Carribean. He was visiting the house of an American friend (the house, from a U.S. point of view, was more the size of a tool shed). The friend, new to the Carribean, wanted to get rid of the omnipresent pests in the abode (he was oblivious to the omnipresent characteristic of the roach). Having brought bug bombs from the states, he placed them around the shack, ignited them, and we headed into town for refreshments. Upon returning, we opened the door to find dozens of huge cockroaches, belly-up, covering his residence. They adorned the bed, table top, and everywhere on the cement floor. We swept them, rattling like bottle caps, out the door. A gaggle of neighborhood chickens congregated outside the door like a mob of offended Muslims, pecking at the carcasses, and carrying them off in their beaks to snack on outside the perimeter of the poultry, only to hop back into the fray for seconds, thirds, and so on (there were a lot of cockroaches, their shells shining in the sun). In the middle of the frenzy were three chickens skirmishing over the remains of a cockroach the size of said saucer. Each had a piece of the pest, and were pulling on him with all their might. It was a sight for the Animal Kingdom show that used to be on t.v. when Pepino S. was a mere geurkin.
So brave the mad winters, midwesterners. It tames the yucky side of nature.

Sin creaturas grandes,

Pepino del Invierno