It was a night like any other (of mine). I was in my room listening to pop music, questioning how I should spend my precious time. Then it happened. "Kreet-kreep." The sound was loud and close, as it echoed through the tiny hallway of my new home. I've been invaded. My initial reaction happened almost unconsciously. I instantly muted my computer and had my right sandal which I kicked up to my right hand - slick.
This cricket's hearing may have been better than mine though, because as soon as I performed aforementioned actions (almost instantaneously) the cricket stopped. Clever girl. Somehow the sounds of me slaughtering things on Unreal Tournament didn't phase it but the absence of sound did. Interesting. Nonetheless, this provoked a situation that nothing I deem a pest, ever should be involved in.
It's a technique I refer to as the McGovern Mediative State. Or MMS. It basically entails me turning off all electronics and any non-organic sounds generation, primarily. The second phase involves well... patience, slickness and timing. In that order. I waited in my room for around 30 minutes, MMS-ing. Then it moved. It jumped. I heard it, ran out flipped on my hall light and saw it hopping against the wall down the hallway.
This is the part where I turn from mediative to predatory. I kick off my sandal and catch it in my right hand and in one motion smack down this cricket... only to miss it. "What the fuck Chase?" I think to myself. "Don't squander this, you are a predator." I encouraged myself with.
To set the scenery, I am now in a dark room (one whose light fixture I haven't repaired yet) hunting a cricket I can hardly see in a room that has no working lights. Is there a more perfect scenario for someone convincing himself he not only is a predator, but the predator? I think not. And so... the standoff began. Me & Mr. Cricket.
Then he hopped. Small creature, big mistake. This time I was more deliberate in my foot-to-sandal transfer, as to not alert Mr. Cricket, I was about to end him. I'll give it credit, it didn't die without trying to escape down the hole my cable internet runs through, but much like every other pest I've encountered, its end resulted in a measured yet necessarily bloody...
...Reality Check.
This is the part where I turn from mediative to predatory. I kick off my sandal and catch it in my right hand and in one motion smack down this cricket... only to miss it. "What the fuck Chase?" I think to myself. "Don't squander this, you are a predator." I encouraged myself with.
To set the scenery, I am now in a dark room (one whose light fixture I haven't repaired yet) hunting a cricket I can hardly see in a room that has no working lights. Is there a more perfect scenario for someone convincing himself he not only is a predator, but the predator? I think not. And so... the standoff began. Me & Mr. Cricket.
Then he hopped. Small creature, big mistake. This time I was more deliberate in my foot-to-sandal transfer, as to not alert Mr. Cricket, I was about to end him. I'll give it credit, it didn't die without trying to escape down the hole my cable internet runs through, but much like every other pest I've encountered, its end resulted in a measured yet necessarily bloody...
...Reality Check.
2 comments:
You called it a girl, but, it was a male since it was chirping. Dummy. Otherwise funny story but I dont think you should have killed the poor cricket. He could have been caught amd let outside.
"Clever girl" is quote from Jurassic Park, dummy. Look at the rest of the post, I use the male pronoun "him" every time, son.
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