De parrot, he is dead At dawn the telephone rings, "Hello, SeƱor Bob? This is Ernesto, the caretaker at your country house." "Ah yes, Ernesto. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?" "Um, I am just calling to advise you, SeƱor Bob, that your parrot, he is dead". "My parrot? Dead? The one that won the International competition?" "Si, SeƱor, that's the one." "Damn! That's a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he die from?" "From eating the rotten meat, SeƱor Bob." "Rotten meat? Who the hell fed him rotten meat?" "Nobody, SeƱor. He ate the meat of the dead horse." "Dead horse? What dead horse?" "The thoroughbred, SeƱor Bob .." "My prize thoroughbred is dead?" "Yes, SeƱor Bob, he died from all that work pulling the water cart." "Are you insane? What water cart?" "The one we used to put out the fire, SeƱor." "Good Lord! What fire are you talking about, man?" "The one at your house, SeƱor! A candle fell and the curtains caught on fire." "What the hell? Are you saying that my mansion is destroyed because of a candle?!" "Yes, SeƱor Bob." "But there's electricity at the house! What was the candle for?" "For the funeral, SeƱor Bob .." "WHAT BLOODY FUNERAL??!!" "Your wife's, SeƱor Bob. She showed up very late one night and I thought she was a thief, so I hit her with your new Ping G15 204g titanium head golf club with the TFC 149D graphite shaft." SILENCE........... LONG SILENCE......... VERY LONG SILENCE............ "Ernesto, if you broke that driver, you're in deep shit."