Printer-Friendly
Email this Story
Post a Comment (0)
What if you don't like cricket?
In the middle of night a cricket woke me up. It was sawing on its fiddle, and it was playing it hot. I rolled over and looked at the clock: 2:30 a.m.
Why do people do that?
Will knowing the time make it better?
I listened to this insect do the cricket boogey, telling myself to ignore it and go back to sleep.
Somewhere on our back pages it is written that crickets chirp. No they don’t. They make a noise somewhere between fingernails on a blackboard and a drunk with a bad idea.
This cricket was going at it like Danny Gatton on a Telecaster. Probably great stuff if you like cricket. I don’t like cricket. Especially in the middle of the night.
Male crickets make all of the racket. They do that by rubbing parts of their wings together. They do it in order to attract female crickets.
I certainly am not a female cricket. Nor was I looking for a good time. I hoisted my old self and went hunting.
The cricket was in the kitchen. It sounded like it was under the refrigerator. No, under the stove. No, just outside the door. Where the …
I sat at the table to get a better bead on this rascal.
It stopped. I’m smarter than a cricket, so I left the light on and went back to bed. Crickets don’t make that infernal noise when it’s light.
I was all settled back down when CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP … etc.
One fall my cousin Jimmy showed up at the hunting cabin with a watch that had an alarm clock function. He said he would set the watch for 5:30 a.m. We could all get up and be out on the game trails by sunup.
It was much earlier than 5:30 a.m. when his watch started with the ding ding ding ding.
One of my uncles said turn off your watch, Jimmy.
Ding ding ding.
Throw that watch out the window, Jimmy.
Ding ding ding.
Jimmy, I’m going to throw you watch and all out the window.
Men do not like aggravating noises during sleepy time.
The bug moved on to boot-scootin’ cricket tunes.
I hoisted myself out of bed again.
“It’s you and me, cricket,” I announced.
I moved the refrigerator. Nothing. I moved the stove. Nothing. I kicked the door a few times. Nothing. I fixed a pot of coffee and kept hunting while the coffee perked. Somewhere between the fourth cup and the bottom of the pot the cricket called it a night.
Like a kid with the hiccups, I waited a long time for the next chirp. Nothing. It was gone.
Great. I could … get myself around for work. I had been up half the night doing the cricket boogey.
Bummer.
You must be logged in to post a comment.