A tale of a cricket

I recently found a new home away from the wild outside. Mountainsides seem too rugged, the sidewalk too hazardous, but an apartment with two bedrooms is small and yet doable. I adventure outside occasionally for food, but because this apartment is as alive as a jungle in the middle of South America with mold, fruit flies, spiders and normal flies, I actually have quite a buffet inside to choose from daily. I was so excited when I stumbled upon this cricket heaven I couldn't keep myself from gloating to a couple of my other cricket friends. I was trying to keep this hidden gem a secret, but because of me and my big mouth, there are now or were a few of us. There's a reason I don' t live in Seoul. Overcrowding and no personal space is not my bag baby.

The humans are rarely home and when they are, at least in the past, they have been relatively kind, moving me from the shower before they turn the water on, or shooing me off the bed before they lay their head down to rest. Reasonable requests in my opinion. But the other night however, I don't know what happened to their normally sweet demeanor. But something, which I have yet discovered did occur, and it caused them to flip their lid and go after me and my kind.

It all started when I caught sent of a lovely cricketess. She had evidently chanced upon my humble abode a few days past, and somehow we had yet to encounter one another. I may have powerful legs, but there is no need to waste precious energy indoors away from my predators. Her name was... well.. I don't know. I called her Ms. lovely, but we never officially met. I don't know if the humans particularly didn't like my one and true cricketess or if something else offended them, but whatever occurred, they went off the deep end. And I mean that. They went absolutely bonkers. I have never seen such rage before and I am an old man, as crickets go that is.

When I caught the scent of Ms. Lovely I called out to her. The humans had just begun to lay in their bed. I, snuggled in my pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room and sang my sweetest serenade. I rubbed my legs together with the passion of a latin lover, producing, in my humble opinion some of the greatest and most skilled chirping a male cricket has ever made. To my surprise however, she refused to reply and instead, another male replied. I am convinced that she was playing hard to get and not blowing me off as others have suggested. The male however astounded me with his bravodo. I mean seriously, coming into my house, and going after my woman, the nerve of some crickets. I continued my song reaching octaves way above his unskilled monotone legs, until the lights flashed on. Kyle, I believe is the human's name was wielding some sort of metal object, maybe a spatula. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were red and slitted. He was looking for something, but what, I have no idea. They were normally sleeping by this time, so why he began stomping around carrying a kitchen utensil, I couldn't fathom.

And then I see him, my competition hopping across the room attempting to escape Kyle and his spatula. It was his chirping, I'm sure of it. He really couldn't carry a tune poor fella. Kyle carried him out of the apartment and threw him back into the wilderness where he belongs. Good riddance, is all I could think. The lights flipped back off, and they slipped into stillness once again.

I had just begun my love ballad when the lights flashed back on. "What could it be this time?" I thought. A flash of pure beauty, and my one and only cricketess skips in front of my pile. Vanessa is chasing her with a shoe. "No!" I scream silently into the t-shirt surrounding me. "Not my darling, my sugar muffin. She is my beloved, my angel. I know I don't know her real name but I can't live without her." And bam, with that last thought, the shoe falls on my darling mysterious cricketess, smothering that shining light forever, never to be seen again. I stood, flabbergasted in my cushy home, unbelieving the events unfolding before me. One minute she was prancing by, waving her hips like a trained beauty queen and the next she has disappeared without a trace. Well, there is kind of a trace of her on the carpet, but lets not talk about such disturbing things.

After that monsterous woman Vanessa had crawled back into bed, my shock wore off, and I could do nothing but weep. My weeping inspired a new song, a tragic song of sorrow and lost love, but before I was able to finish my musical ingenious creation, the lights once again flipped on, and I felt my bundle of clothes being moved. "Two AM in the morning." I heard her mumble. If this isn't the last one, I'm gonna go crazy."

She couldn't figure out where to put me and finally settled on the second bedroom and closed both the door to her bedroom and my new one. I continued my song in solitude until the wee hours of the night, but I didn't hear from them again that evening. I am afraid my home has been ruined for me now. I haven't decided whether to leave or to make my home back in the bedroom with the bipolar couple.

Maybe I shall try singing them a song. Yes, a dedicated and specially written song to the home owners will do the trick. Tonight, I shall sing them a lullaby as they rest their heads. Whatever caused them to turn into monsters in the night will all be assuaged with this masterpiece croon, I am sure of it.