The Battle of The Crickets, A Funny Story
Grabbing our sneakers, two pairs of sweat pants and long-sleeved shirts, my sister and I prepared to do battle. We grabbed spray bottles full of glass cleaner, air freshner and all-purpose cleaning solution. We put on the goggles that our father used when he did yard work and finally we were ready to fight. My little 7-year-old sister and I, then only twelve, were ready to wage war on the gruesome crickets that had decided to take up residence in our house and disturb our peaceful school night.
The strange insects looked like a science experiment that had gone horribly wrong. They had the striped coloring of a tiger shark and the same horrible number of legs that a spider should have. These ugly creatures, which I would later find out were called crickets, had been invading our new home ever since we had moved in that fall. One of these horrible-looking monstrosities had decided to interrupt our quiet evening of watching cartoons driving my sister and I into our shared bedroom. These invaders were our worst nightmare and we were prepared to do battle with them.
Our double layers of sweatpants and t-shirts were our armor. The better to protect us from the horror of having the crickets jump on us. Our spray bottles full of all-purpose cleaner and flower scented air freshner were our ammunition. The better to drown our spindly-legged foes with.
Though our foes looked to us like they were from outer space, it appears that some crickets are actually from Asia but are found everywhere.
Even though the crickets didn’t bite, their unruly appearance and large hind legs made them more than a formidable threat to us. All we knew was that like many households throughout America, these strange creatures that were entirely different than any household insect that we had ever seen before.
My little sister and I stalked around our house with all of the concentration and stealth of soldiers who were trying to avoid a booby trap set by an enemy army. We knew we wouldn’t be able to sleep well until we had gotten rid of these large unwieldy insects. We carefully crept around the corners of our house with our backs to one another to make sure that the unwelcome invaders didn’t sneak up on us.
Without any warning, a cricket jumped up between my sister and I. After that, all hell broke lose. We frantically shot pointed our spray bottles in every conceivable direction hoping to hit the stray cricket. With any luck we would be able to drown our enemy in a pool of lilac-scented spray.
We shot air freshner and glass cleaner at the door, the floor and the ceiling fan. It was like a farcical scene from an action movie set in a suburban household. “Get him!” I yelled at my sister who sprayed a stream of sweet smelling spray like she was holding a uzzi. We covered our room in a noxious mixture of household products and in the process felt like we had done enough fighting to earn a purple heart.