These bugs are way too happy for their own good. non only black, smaller versions of the grasshopper, crickets are masters of hide and seek. The inky bodies blend flawlessly into the shadows beneath a bush or in spite of appearance the garage. Each crunchy creature also must perk up a shrinking ability. Squeezing into cracks and crannies in walls, even the rope is shamed by the cricket. Once hiding within xxx feet of my presence, the despicable beast begins to sing its wretched, repetitive tune. Echoing in my ears, magnified by the silence between chirps, the numbers rattles in my head.
Forget studying, forget writing and solving problems, forget sleeping, because I am irritated. Each shrill note pierces my skull, drumming inside my head as though pressuring my brain. Find me, it taunts, if you can. Concentrating becomes isolated, like a special filter is funneling only the vibrato-filled song into my mind. Eyes tolerant and furious, I hunt, following the gnawing chirp.
Listening with ears attuned only to the shriek, I bootlick so slowly, so focused my muscles ache with the strain.
Zoning in on a tiny area, suddenly repulsed by the design of cricket skin brushing my delicate fingertips, I hold close a sandal from the step. I can hear it. I go through its only a few inches away. Now, the battle begins as my adversary finally quiets, sensing my approach. I freeze in mid-step, an urge to scream and lunge clawing at me. The chirp continues, beckoning, taunting. A lightning quick swipe of my hand overturns a sneaker. The joyful song stops. The panicked nuisance hops piti effectivey into the wall and waterfall to the floor. An ear-splitting smack sickens the air.
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