John Dedeke

Dynamic Writer Guy

Hightower and the Roach

ProseJohn DedekeComment

I sit on a ground-floor window ledge on the backside of the Renaissance Grand hotel, inhaling bus fumes and second-hand cancer. The driver is my neighbor on the ledge, and even seated on this concrete beam he's a giant. Combined with his size, his uniform, gentle voice, and even stare recall Hightower from the Police Academy movies. 

And right now Hightower is giving me marriage advice.

Suddenly, after using the term "booty call" without a hint of irony, Hightower points at a cockroach that has freshly emerged from a sewer grate in the sidewalk. 

"That's a cockroach," he says, and I don't believe him first, only because I've never seen a cockroach outside before. I want to inspect the bug closer but I don't want to leave the relative comfort of the stone block on which my ass is seated. Fortunately the not-roach scampers toward us and I finally see that it is a cockroach, and a fine specimen at that. 

We both watch the roach regard something on the ground and then scurry across the sidewalk and back down the grate, clearly disinterested in whatever this stretch of city has to offer. 

And I wonder if he's the lucky one here.