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EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM) North American (US Western)Transcript
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joke and sell. I was way out in the middle of Texas, somewhere in my old international travel on one of those wagon type trucks that was impossible to get parts for. So when the choke broke, I'd rigged up in old wire through the dashboard to pull on when it needed more gas. Wasn't that safe? Because sometimes you needed an extra hand. But way out here, there were only two speeds, very fast. An old farmer when I was kind of like the 2nd 1 So it didn't matter. I was looking at the vast expanses of cattle country, miles of open range, early morning sun in my eyes of the east to do melting off the wildflowers. When I saw this dirty old hitchhiker with a small pack that looked like the dust it was sitting in, I stopped and he threw the pack in the back. Yeah, dirty hair and an old beard jeans warn of the knee and a dirty old leather coat was kind of also worn out, but it was friendly enough, didn't smoke. Thank me for the ride, and we'll go around in the seat enough to get comfortable as we started again. He had the home made choke warily, but I assured him it was okay. It was handmade. But what can you do? You have to right away for international parts. And even then you couldn't get him. That took years. He said he was going to Dallas and we establish where I would drop them off 100 miles up the road. Or so the sun was coming up over the horizon and shining and oranges glow in his beard is he turned a little to keep it out of his eyes. A strange Beaven came from his coat, kind of alarmed May, but it turned out to be a cell phone, which he promptly answered, turned away and kind of mumbled in Do It. Even though the reception was probably terrible, we're way out in the middle of nowhere. I had no idea what he was doing, but was grateful that it wasn't a gun because that could get ugly. It was probably just young kid business, but who knows? I know so little about what young folks do on these things that I just concentrated on my driving and left him alone. And sure enough, the call was over quick enough, and he put it away. But then a big old cockroach fell out of his pants and onto the floor board of the truck. He's dumped it out with his cowboy boot, and it sat there, squished up until he kind of pushed it over to the well at the side. It was one big, ugly dead cockroach. By the time he was done with it, my dramas to dropped about a mile. Not because I had never seen anything so hideous, but more because way out in the country, you don't see cockroaches so often. They're kind of city things. You see crickets, mice, armadillos, all kinds of stuff, but not cockroaches. Big, ugly *******, he said, smiling. It was a little embarrassed to his credit. Don't worry about it, I said. It's not like I'm trying to keep the truck clean. You ever heard about the cockroach theory of evolution? He asked. Well, it was a long way to Dallas, and I figured I got nothing else to do, so I figured you might as well tell it in the beginning of time, he says, There were these two cockroaches. They were friends, but one day, they got into an argument. I could evolve into something better than you says one. Yeah, but we cockroaches are already pretty good. You don't need to evolve, says the other. I think I'll just evolve to be better than you says the first. You go right ahead and do it, says the second. I'll just stay the way I am. So they went back and forth like that, and pretty soon it was a dare and the 1st 1 set out to evolving. So he turns into a fish than a frog and on up the letter. And it took a number of generations, of course, but the 2nd 1 just stayed a cockroach. He didn't evolve it all. And every time that frog or armadillo or whatever, look back at that cockroach. He saw that look of hatred that look of recognition in his eyes. Because I'll tell you something. One thing you can say about the cockroach he's always watching. He's always ready to run and hide. He's always watching what we'll do next, because you can guess what happened all the way up that ladder. Monkey, ape, human, whatever that cockroach was still watching and Now we're humans and their Roaches. And you know what? There's no animal we hate more than cockroaches. None. There isn't a single person around that wouldn't tell you. They're the most evil, wicked, filthiest, sneakiest animal alive. And do you think there any worse than any other bug? Not really. They're a little more aware of humans. Maybe they're a little more tuned in to what we're up to, and that's why we hate them. So you can guess how this story ends, he said. We evolve until we blow ourselves up. It's inevitable. Humans, They're smart. They make the bomb. They survive for a while. They hold out from destroying each other. But eventually somebody blows everyone up. And then you know what the cockroach survives? No. Why? Because all he is really is a shell and a pair of eyes. You never got past that perfect in simple state where he was simple enough to survive the bomb. And why not? Because he chose not to. He knew what evolution entails, and he didn't want it. You laughed a little and settled back into a seat again out the window. The wildflowers were picking up, shining in the morning sun. There were signs of civilisation again houses, motels, gas stations in the lack as we were coming into the outskirts of four Worth. Maybe I've never heard such a theory, but I've never really thought about it. And I had to admit that most people, including myself, hated cockroaches way beyond what they were worth. When you turn on some Latin, they all go scattering under some dirty stove. And it made me think, Seymour, you know, sometimes it feels like the world is full of your friends, people like you who think and feel all the same stuff you do. But other times it just seems to be full of evil creatures like the cockroach evil personified, the opposite of us who are watching, waiting for their opportunity, just completely opportunistic. Now, this kid, it was nice enough little different from me but a nice kid. And I had to say, You seem to put his finger right on that aspect of life, and I had to thank him for that wisdom. For after all, that's what you hope to get out of a hitchhiker. A little relief from the boredom in the monotony when we got to the exit. I let him out with his dirty old pack in his gentle smile. Easy manner. He was a survivor. What he do in Dallas, I don't have a clue. Maybe that's what the cell phone call was about. You collected his stuff and locked down towards the other highway. I pulled out that old choke wire and headed off on my own way down the ramp. Feeling better? Helping someone out gives you a good feeling, regardless of the circumstance, a warm feeling entirely different than a hot Texas morning in an old truck.