A Letter From The Cockroach Hotel

My dearest Martin,

I gotta tell ya, this is one of the nicer units in this building. I’ve moved on up, by way of the bathtub drain plumbing. When I came up, beautiful, still pools of water lay waiting, collecting on an incline not steep enough to let it pass. Real paradise.

I didn’t think I’d ever see the light of day again. Trapped in that suitcase. Nothin’ but loose socks. No water for days. We’re tough, of course, but we ain’t that tough. They could slice our heads right off and we’d still scuttle around. It’s strange how we survive without a head, but it’s the fact that we can’t drink water that kills us, ain’t it? We’re tough, alright. But not that tough.

Here, in this new place, we’re living like kings now. But it wasn’t always like this. When Manfred and me first got here, the time difference made it hard to adjust. During the day we mostly moved around the cupboard crevices. Made our way to the dishes in the sink at night. It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet, every night. But Two-Legs started getting up in the night, turned that light on and saw us before we could get away. Manfred said we’re dead as a doorknob, or maybe doornail. Something to that effect. You know him, always crawling all over delicious, musty books, absorbing all that smart stuff.

We had a couple of close calls. Almost got squished by a slipper and sent back down the drain. And the ladies? Nowhere to be found. At least at first. But that changed too. I don’t have the space here to tell you about my new lady, but let’s just say, she’s the real deal. Wish we could show you how good things are now. Manfred’s living well, too. Couple units over. Actually, he decided he wants to write something. Here ya go:

Hello, Martin. Hope this finds you well, if it finds you at all. We do quite miss you. Although Jack speaks highly of our new home, I’m not so easily convinced. Two-Legs leaves behind trails of white bread crumbs and old cheese while I would prefer ripe, sweet peaches and droplets of iced tea. Her taste in literature is abhorrent, bordering on revolting. I know you’d feel the same. I do hope we meet again in however distant a future. Though we are all nothing but glitches in this universe anyway. Give my best to Linda.

Anyway, both me and Manfred agreed we’d write to ya often. We would have waited for you if we could. But hey, shoulda moved those six legs a little faster into the suitcase, eh Martin?

Sincerely, 

Jack & Manfred