Not Cricket


Not Cricket

Almost anything the least notable that happens to me anymore, Forgottenman insists I must make into a blog post. I object. He prods. I comply. Tonight it was simply a VERY LOUD cricket whose noise was ricocheting off the concrete walls and dome of my living/dining room and practically causing the mainly glass walls to vibrate. After about 20 minutes, I developed a splitting headache and went in search of it, knowing that in these rooms and the adjoining kitchen there is so much stuff that I’d never find it. But, to my surprise, I tracked it down. Here is the Skype conversation that ensued:

Screen Shot 2019-10-10 at 9.38.04 PM

22 thoughts on “Not Cricket

  1. okcforgottenman

    HA! You did it, you took the bait! I really didn’t expect it. Well played!

    (Gentle readers, I must note that I would replace Judy’s description of my “insists” with “gently reminds me”, and “prods” with “gently suggests”. Further, although I support the practice of interior cricket assassination, I consider myself to be a true not-a-monster.)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. slmret

    I’m glad I’m not a cricket-killer! Mine happily walk/hop across the living room from the garage to the back yard. I haven’t seen any this year yet, but the season is almost upon us!

    Liked by 1 person

          1. slmret

            I have to admit I do help them hop their way across the living room — I stomp my foot right behind them, scaring them into the direction I want them to go. It usually works — but not always — I once scared a cricket half way up the screen door curtain!


          2. slmret

            No, I didn’t know that crickets bite! They’re supposed to be good luck — the goal is to catch them and keep them inside a loose raffia cage, and let them chirp away! I’ve never been able to do that!


  3. Christine Goodnough

    Crickets don’t often get into our trailer, and most anything outside, I have a “Live and let live” policy towards. Exception: that critter at the top of this page. It is, as you say, not a cricket. For hoppers my policy is: Stomp! Wherever, whenever. 🙂


  4. samvoelker

    Judy I have come to consider my alter ego. Many of your poems are on a similar subject of one I have written.

    A chirp in the wall,
    Let me say that it sounded far away,
    a weak little chirp, and that’s all.
    but beyond reason, it increased throughout the day.

    Let me complain, to my utter disdain,
    I reasoned that bug was not an outsider.
    To back up my claim, let me explain,
    that chirp was getting louder and louder.

    Listening here, another chirp there,
    on the ceiling and even, one under the floor,
    over my head, then on the bed, and under a chair.
    When I find that turd, giving him my word, I swore,

    when removed from his lair, his life I might spare,
    just wanted to put him out of the door.
    But with a chirp, chirp here, another a chirp there,
    it soon occurred to me that there may be more.

    Those chirpers I swear, were even in the air,
    then way over there a Gryllidae by the door,
    Grasshoppers, all over, I started to swear,
    this is war, and I will tolerate you no more.

    So I grabbed my spray, Flit,
    and with a bound, started listening for it, all around,
    but the room just went quiet, and that was it,
    for throughout the house not even a sound.

    Now a bug out of sight, one silent out of fright,
    is protected by his cunning and silence,
    so I put myself to bed and turned out the light,
    but the silence was broken again, but with a violence.


  5. Pingback: A Hamburger for Breakfast: Fishing With My Father (Part 1 of 2) | serial monography: forgottenman's ruminations

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