There is an unwelcome visitor in my house. He is rude and very loud all night long. He has taken to torturing me at all hours of the night. Let me explain…
The torture started two nights ago. At first it was a quiet “criiiicket” that pieced the night’s silence. It was so soft that I thought the sound was from outside. I rolled over not expecting to hear it much longer. The noise came again, “cricket, criiiiiccckkkeeet, crick…” It sounded like an out of tune violin trying to find some semblance of a note to no avail. Then there was silence for a heavy moment.
The next three notes were tentative and still out of tune, “crick, crick, crick…” I lifted my head off the pillow and strained to identify the location of the noise. ‘Is that Fred and Lamont?’ I thought to myself but quickly discounted that idea.
I put my head back down and started to drift off. That’s when my unwelcome guest went into over drive. “Cricket, cricket, cricket, cricket, cricket,” rang thought the apartment over and over again. I tried to ignore it. But, after the 50th plus time of hearing the high-pitched-out-of-tune siren song, I lost my composure and threw off of the covers.
The noise stopped for a moment. I took a deep breath and held it listening to the silence. The “Cricket, cricket, cricket,” started back up. This time it was louder and faster. “Are you kidding me?” I called to the night. I got up and turned on the light. The noise stopped. “Damn it!” I yelled at the room. “Come out and fight like a man…er…bug!” I called to my advisory. I turned in circles delirious with rage and drunk with sleep. “If I find you, I’m going to kill you!” I warned the unwanted guest.
“I love all animals but I need sleep! It’s 4 am!” I mumbled as I walked to the closet to get my implements of destruction: a high-powered flashlight and a wooden pole. As I walked back to the bedroom, the “cricket, cricket, cricket,” started up again. It was very soft. “Oh, now you’re taunting me!?!” I called.
I knew that my advisory was small and stealthy. I got down on my hands and knees and started probing the darkest recesses of my bedroom: under the bed, under the night stand, under the bookshelf, and under the dresser. I found several rather large dust bunnies and made a mental note to vacuum under those areas, eventually. But nothing alive roamed even the furthest reaches of those forgotten realms.
As I was taking one last look at possible hiding spots for the evil creature, Fred and Lamont decided that it was time to be fed. Several loud “WHEEEKKKKS!” rang out from the living room. “Wonderful,” I remarked to the floor, “you’ve managed to wake up the guiena pigs.” I got up off of the floor to deal with the new source of noise.
I refreshed the boys hay and gave them some fresh lettuces. They happily munched on the impromptu meal. I went back to bed. I turned the light off, laid down, pulled the covers over me, and started to drift off. “Cricket, cricket, cricket,” came from somewhere in the room. “Aughhhhhh” I called out as I grabbed an extra pillow and showed it over my head. “You will not break me…” I said to the pillow. Thankfully the pillow drowned out enough of the noise to allow me to go to fall asleep.
When I woke up at 6 a.m. the boys were sleeping and the house was quiet. “Sure,” I called to the room, “You’re quiet now…” Then added, “When I have to get up for school?!?” And, of course, neither of the boys wanted to get up when I offered food. “Traitors,” I scolded their sleeping butts.
My first encounter with the beast was Sunday night. It is now Wednesday and I have searched the whole house several times over to find the beast. The high-powered flashlight and wooden pole are by my bedside at the ready. I need my sleep. This beast’s time on this earth is limited… And yes, I am talking about a cricket.