Every morning between three and five o’clock my neighbor’s rooster makes it a point to began his cockadoodledoos at my front door. He walks all the way from his coop to my home to wake me with his ear-shattering, moon-crumbling cries. Most roosters cry every half minute or every minute, but this creature cries every ten seconds. Then the neighbor’s dokitras, an animal that’s a cross between a duck and Satan, respond to the rooster’s every cry with their own quacking. COCKADOODLEDOO, DRACKDRACKDRACKDRACKDRACK, COCKADOODLEDOO, DRACKDRACKDRACKDRACKDRACK. I try to drown out the animal cacophony by pulling a pillow to my ears but to no avail.
There is a coconut tree in my front lawn. As I’m covering my ears with my pillow I’m usually wishing that a coconut would fall from the tree and smash the rooster into the sand. I picture feathers shooting in all directions, a beak lying nearby and two bird feet standing upright apart from its body. Then I chuckle at the thought that I’ve never once wished for a rooster’s death by coconut in Las Vegas.