At Dawn the Telephone Rings

"Hello, Señor Smith? This is Ernesto... the caretaker at your country house."
"Ah yes, Ernesto. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?"
Uh . . . I'm just calling to advise you, Señor, that your parrot died."
"My parrot? Dead? The one that won the international speaking competition?"
"Si, Señor . . . that's the one."
"Damn! That's a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he die from?"
"From eating rotten meat, Señor."
"Rotten meat? Who the hell fed the parrot rotten meat?"
"Nobody, Señor. He ate the meat of your dead horse."
"Dead horse? What dead horse?!"
"The thoroughbred that won the Breeders Cup, Señor Smith. He died from a heart attack pulling the big water cart."
"Are you insane? What water cart?"
"The one we used to put out the fire, Señor."
"Good Lord! What fire are you talking about, man?"
"The one at your house, Señor. A candle fell and the curtains caught on fire."
"What the . . . !! There's electricity at the house!! What the hell was the candle for?"
"For the funeral, Señor."
"WHAT BLOODY FUNERAL?!"
"Your wife's, Señor . . . She showed up one night out of the blue and I thought she was a thief . . . so I hit her with your new Tiger Woods Nike driver."
A long pause of complete silence . . .
"Ernesto, if you broke that driver, you're in deep sh!t!"