Pete ad his wife had 6 kids.
Last thing they needed was a dog,
so they adopted a German Shepard puppy.
After having it for about a month,
it started acting strangely,
wouldn’t eat, lethargic,
growled when you rubbed his tummy.
Finally broke down and took him to the vet.
$500 later an X-ray showed that
he had swallowed Xenita’s doll, whole.
“We’ll have to do surgery to remove that”
said the vet, “Or he’s going to die.”
“How much will that cost?”
“About three thousand dollars.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
The kids were beside themselves.
Pete wanted to give him
a special last meal.
Thought about cooking him a steak,
but he couldn’t bring himself to spend that much
on a dog was going to be put down anyway.
So they made him a grilled cheese sandwich.
Next thing you know he’s jumping
up and down at the door.
He runs outside and takes huge dump.
Out pops the doll, and he’s as good as new.
“Three thousand bucks” said Pete,
“All we had to do was feed him grilled cheese.”
Pete just finished a set
playing bongos in the Felipe Suarez Big Band.
Then his phone blew up.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“You broke his fucking nose?” a slightly shrill voice
yelled from the other end.
“He swung at me first,” said Pete.
“You broke his fucking nose! You’re a boxer,
you could’ve blocked or ducked him.”
“He swung at my nose. I just corrected his form.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“He’s the district attorney’s son.”
“So?” said Pete.
“He will ID you.”
“Yeah? And? He swung at me first,
it was self defense.”
“Five minutes.” the stage manager said, poking his head into the green room.
“You need to get outta town. “
He hung up the phone without responding
thinking of Havana in April.