They survived. They always survived. The truth bears out time and again. There’s no killing a cockroach.
Not that there was anyone around to stomp on them any more. Man’s inhumanity to man went a bit too far, with the conflagration leaving nothing but these durable bugs, they pretty much had run of the world!
Bernie and Miguel lived under the flat top grill in La Hacienda del Fuego. They never saw the flash and were never bothered by the heat. They had their fill of grease and salsa that never made it onto the plate. Bernie steered clear of the jalapeno seeds which was okay by Miguel who always loved a little spice!
The darkness was unusual, Bernie thought, seeing that they hadn’t seen the sun or any other light source for four days. He had no problem getting around the restaurant though. He just liked seeing what he was eating.
“Que pasa, Amigo?” Miguel queried. “You look worried!”
Bernie glanced over at his friend and shook his head.
“Something is wrong, Miguel! Can’t you feel it?” Bernie asked. “It’s dead around here!”
“SO? This joint was the big time! The hoy-faloy!” Bernie reasoned. “What’s to become of us?”
Miguel thought for a second. Sure, in time the food would be scarce, but while it lasts, they’ll feast!
“Why is this a dilemma, my friend?” Miguel worried.
“I was proud of this place. It was like a badge of honor!” Bernie replied.
Miguel couldn’t let the line lie. He swiped a feeler across his thick black mustache. Then he smiled his smarmy smile.
“Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges!”
The two insect laughed hysterically caught up in the humor of it all.
“Pass the qeuso fresco!” Bernie relented. “Tonight we fiesta!”