A Bit of Cockroach Silliness

Raunchy Ruth, the laptop dancer from IBM opened the meeting that night with Gusto the gracious geek from Gerry’s Gambling Garden.

“Shutup!” she screamed. “Gusto here ain’t saying nothing. This means I am the boss. Right Gusto?.

Gusto mumbled a few obscenities much to the amusement of the crowd gathered in the old graveyard near barmy Barney’s Barn. A hush had fallen on the crowd, no sound heard. Except of course for Darrie the drunk who was a devilish, deviant character of dubious means.

“Isa wanna says summit.” Darrie blurted out, causing every person there to hold their noses from fear of being poisoned with metho vapours.

“Shutup!. Raunchy Ruth screamed, saliva spurting stream-like from her succulent lips. “Now listen up. I’m going to say something.” Raunchy Ruth paused. “Sit down Gusto!”

Laughter filled the air. Gusto had almost gutted himself when he fell off the chair. He didn’t feel the banner pole, being held by dopy Doreen the dog lover, pierce his jasmine-coloured jacket. Raunchy Ruth screamed again, and again, to gain attention from the lovable leering crowd.

“First matter at hand. Sit down Gusto!. As I was saying, the first matter at hand is this cockroach thing. The chair recognises Chuck the Cockie in the corner.” Ruth said harshly.

Chuck stood and smiled warmly at the crowd, his feelers feeling everything near him. “We have a big problem. Us cockroaches have been around for longer than any living thing on this earth, and yet we are getting sprayed, slapped with slippers and sneakers, and spat on. We need your support.” Chuck chuckled a little. “When I say us, I mean the Cockroach Carers Corporation and the Cockroach Community Collective.”

Raunchy Ruth bellowed “Thanks Chuckie for telling us your concern. Right, let’s open the floor.”

All those present looked to the ground to see where the earth had opened up.

“Ain’t no holes Raunchy, just flat ground with the occasional hump or two. Oooppps!. Sorry Carry Camel.” Silly Sid the shoebox salesman said sheepishly. “Raunchy, can I speak?.”

Silly Sid received a glare from Raunchy Ruth. She liked him but her house was full of shoeboxes stacked side by side in the cellar. Silly Sid had caught her one day playing monopoly with Mighty Mike the marble maker. Naturally this was bad for Raunchy Ruth’s image. She had always prided herself as a hard no-nonsense woman.

“Thanks Raunchy.” Sid yelled from the back of the graveyard as he stood up. “We all have to rally behind Chuck and his cohorts. They are lovely little layabouts that love everything and everybody. In my opinion, we should start a….”

Carrie Camel interrupted. “Start what?. All of us here have taken part in daring demonstrations delightfully. But them out there don’t listen. I’m telling you, it’s these big companies we should go after. The one’s that make pesticides and stuff. They are the one’s that are killing us all off and not just Chuck and his cheery crowd. I know what you were going to say Sid, but it wouldn’t work. We already tried sending surly statements to the big guys. It just doesn’t work.”

“We must peruse the problem practically. ”Yelled Pattie Pastry who worked at Paul’s Patisserie. “It’s all well and good coming up with fabulous fertile ideas. I think we should all wear T-Shirts with a slogan supporting Chuck Cockroach and his cohorts. Any ideas?”

Sniggers and giggles rumbled through the crowd, followed by mumbles and whispers.

“Settle down!” Raunchy Ruth screamed. “I think it’s a great idea Pattie. Have a Peach Pie on me tomorrow, I’ll pay when I pass by.”

The crowd stood to their feet filling the graveyard with astounding applause.

“I’ve got it!” Chuck Cockroach exclaimed.

“Don’t give it to me.” Splurted Susan the Shampoo Seller from Sarah’s Salon. “I haven’t been well all week and I don’t need any more trouble.”

Chuck the Cockroach laughed. “No Susan. I have an idea for a slogan. I put to the floor and the chairperson (sorry Gusto!) we all wear T-Shirts with ‘Care for Cockies carefully, they care about you!.”

“Brilliant!” shouted Carrie Camel who was carefully perched on a headstone. “I’ve got a friend, Peter the Printer from Printers Perfection. It’s a good shop and I am sure he will give us a great deal.”

“What!.” Was the collective rumble in the crowd.

“Perhaps Silly Sid will sell more shoeboxes and donate the money.” Raunchy Ruth said sarcastically.