Fucking Crickets

(As I am still trying to beat Blogger into submission, here are links to my last two entries:Babies Send in the Clowns)

While lying (laying, whatever grammar nazis) in bed this evening with Tony, I heard a noise. You know it, the sound of a cricket chirping its’ ass off. I figured it was outside since my head was about 2 feet from the window.

No problem, outside is their domain. They can have the woods and the grass and the trees, I have the house. Eventually, even I couldn’t remain slothful so I drug myself out of bed to do something or the other. As I opened the bedroom door, I heard it.

That son-0f-a-bitch was not outside. Oh, no, as the opening in the doorway became larger, the sound became louder and louder.

There was a fucking cricket in my house. Now, I’m not afraid of them, they don’t bite or sting, they just make me want to stick my fingers in my ears and sing “la la la la la, I can’t hear you” like I’m a four year old parent abusing child.

I crept down the hallway, very slowly in hopes of figuring out where that dastardly noise was coming from. Aha! The green menace was in the bathroom.

I stepped into the bathroom, flipped on the light.

Chirp! Chirp!

It wasn’t coming from the bathroom. That bastard was in the kitchen. I moved as stealthily as a fat, gimpy woman can, down the hall, towards the kitchen. I was so quiet that I could hear the little bastard breathing.

Until, I actually stepped in the kitchen.

Nothing. Not a sound could be heard in the entire house. The fucker is playing with me.

I went about my business, shuffling about in hopes that the cricket would start again so I could hunt it down and send it outside. My tasks finished, I headed back towards the bedroom.

Step, step, clunk, step, step, clunk.

As I stepped past the bathroom.

Chirp! Chirp!

The little bastard started again. And, now it sounded like he was in the living room. I flipped around, waving my cane like a samurai sword and headed back to finish him off.

As the doorjam between the kitchen and living room met my foot, it got quiet. He could sense my presence. I stood still, not even daring to breath in hopes of throwing the cricket off.

Nothing.

Back down the hall towards the bedroom I clumped again. Fuck it! It’s just a cricket, I can ignore it.

No more had my ass hit my chair that I heard a roar of a chirp from somewhere else in the house. I have gone back with the broom poking into corners. I flipped on lights, sat as still as a mouse.

The menace is nowhere to be found. I know he’s there. I can hear him right now, above the sound of the computer and air conditioner. Yet, I know as soon as I head out to find it, the sound will cease.

I have not conceded defeat. Oh, no. I will win. As God as my witness, I will not allow a creature that weighs less than an ounce and is less than an inch in length (unless this is some gigantic cricket-like creature) beat me. I will win.

And, when I do, you will hear my victory song no matter where you are. I will be victorious!

Or, I’ll buy ear plugs and learn to live like that for the next 3 months.