farewell Gooch

It was early morning, and Tupac stood at the window of the small apartment he shared with Dr. Dre. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the room. Tupac had a ritual—every morning, without fail, he'd walk over to the windowsill to check on Gooch, his pet cockroach. Gooch had been his unlikely companion for two years, a scrappy little survivor that Tupac had once rescued from a dusty corner of a old rentel apartment.

"Morning, Gooch," Tupac said with a grin, holding a small crumb of bread in his hand. But when he looked at the sill, Gooch wasn't there.

Tupac frowned. "Gooch? Where you at, little homie?"

He began searching the apartment, checking under furniture, behind curtains, and even in the cracks along the walls. "Yo, Dre! You seen Gooch?" Tupac called out.

Dre, still half-asleep on the couch, groaned. "Man, it's a roach. It's probably chillin' somewhere."

But Tupac wasn't convinced. Gooch was always there in the morning, waiting for his breakfast. Something didn't feel right.

Tupac scoured the apartment, calling out Gooch's name like he was looking for a lost puppy. He checked the kitchen, the bathroom, even the shoe rack. Then, as he stepped into the bathroom, a faint skimming sound caught his attention. He turned toward the toilet and froze.

There, floating on the water, was Gooch. His tiny legs were splayed out, and he was barely moving. Tupac's heart sank. "Gooch! No, man, what happened to you?"

He crouched down, carefully scooping Gooch out of the toilet with a tissue. The little roach was alive but barely clinging on. Tupac examined him, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Then the smell hit him—his own morning business from earlier.

"No way…" Tupac muttered, realization dawning on him. "You smelled my shit and passed out? Damn, Gooch, I didn't think it was that bad!"

Dre appeared at the doorway, rubbing his eyes. "Yo, what's all the noise?"

Tupac held up Gooch's limp body. "He fell in, Dre. My boy couldn't handle it. He's gone, man."

Dre stared for a moment before bursting out laughing. "You telling me your roach died from your funk? That's wild, Pac."

Tupac wasn't about to let Gooch go without a proper send-off. He set up a small "funeral" on the balcony, placing Gooch on a tiny makeshift bed of tissues. Dre, still amused, grabbed a disposable camera to document the whole thing.

Tupac lit a blunt and held it close to Gooch's little body, as if offering him one last puff. "This one's for you, homie," Tupac said solemnly.

"Yo, Pac, you really giving your roach a hit?" Dre laughed, snapping a photo.

Tupac ignored him, focused on his fallen friend. "Gooch was more than a roach. He was family. Been with me since day one. Through all the drama, all the grind—he never left my side."

As word spread, the rest of N.W.A showed up to pay their respects. Eazy-E brought a single flower, which he placed next to Gooch. "Rest in peace, little dude," Eazy said with a smirk.

Ren and Yella joined in, each adding their own token—a guitar pick from Yella and a cigarette butt from Ren.

As the sun set, the group gathered on the balcony, passing around a blunt in Gooch's honor. Tupac stood in the center, his emotions raw but his spirit strong.

"I'mma spit something for Gooch," Tupac announced, pacing back and forth. The group cheered him on, and Tupac launched into a freestyle:

"Gooch was a soldier, my ride or die,

Survived the traps, stayed by my side.

From the studio floors to this crib in the sky,

You lived like a king, now it's time to fly.

Two years strong, you weren't just a pest,

You were my homie, my little guest.

So here's to the moments, the laughs we shared,

Gooch, my brother, you know I cared."

The group erupted in applause, some genuinely moved, others just enjoying the moment. Dre, still holding the camera, shook his head with a grin. "Man, only Pac could turn a roach into a legend."

The party continued late into the night, a celebration of Gooch's life and the bond that had formed between this unlikely group. By the time the blunt was finished and the drinks were gone, Tupac stood on the balcony alone, looking up at the stars.

"Rest easy, Gooch," he said softly. "You'll always be remembered."

And with that, Tupac closed the door, ready to face another day, carrying the memory of his tiny companion with him.

Author notes

This is short and sweet chapter from every write rip Gooch on the comments.

End