I’m afraid of them, you see (YES, I am afraid of crickets–g’head, get yer cackling over with . . . ), and have a couple of them living in my basement. Usually, we get along OK–if they’re hanging out within view when I go downstairs to do laundry or something, all I have to do is stomp around on the staircase, and they’ll go boinging out of sight until I’m gone again.
Last night, that didn’t happen. THREE of those suckers (the brown ones, too–they’re the creepiest) were hanging out right at the foot of the staircase when I went down to put a load into the dryer.
I stomped.
They didn’t budge.
I stomped and yelled.
I swore I saw one of them lazily give me the finger, but other than that, still no movement.
Then I noticed that mere inches away from the cricket congregation was a small puddle of mysterious thick brownish goo, that appeared to have dripped from one of my heating ducts (staining some laundry en route that I had hung up to dry).
What the . . . ? I wondered, but with those crickets refusing to budge, no way was I going to check it out! So I went back upstairs.
This morning, I noticed that the bottle of Creme de Cacao I keep atop my refrigerator had fallen off and broken . . .
. . . right on top of the heating vent in the kitchen floor.
Aha! Thought I, triumphant. Heating Duct Goo Mystery solved!
Only NOW is it occurring to me that perhaps the stubborn, bird-flipping crickets were DRUNK last night (and that’s why they refused to move) . . . !
You are going to be in so much trouble. Next thing you know, they’ll be banging on the basement door, demanding another round for the house and dancing nekkid on top of your dryer.
I hate crickets, too. I had a chinese water dragon that was very picky about the crickets he would eat, so I had to pick out the ones he wouldn’t eat and drop a couple more in his cage. Creepy little buggers! (Also, my mother swears that crickets eat cloth, so the ones that got away have been blamed for all the holes in my jeans.)
Or maybe their tiny little feet were stuck to the floor, and they were paralyzed with fear at the giant stomping their direction, unable to flee for their lives!
Besides, all I’ve got left is some Triple Sec and some really old tequila (both of which should be savored at Cinqo de Mayo, not Christmas, don’t you think?) . . .
All you need to do is keep a little bottlecap full of Creme de Cacoa for them, and they’ll stumble instead of jump. If you start hearing slurred, drunken choruses of “When You Wish Upon A Star”, you’re in business. In time, their little cricket livers will swell up, and they’ll croak off.
Of course, that plan could backfire. Drunken crickets may have nothing better to do than…
Upon close inspection, they are as ugly and creepy as any other bug. Actually, my mother has a phobia about butterflies, especially moths, but all of them in general. It is very bad. She cannot enter a house where she knows, and sometimes suspects, that there is one.
Auntie: I think you are going to have to call someone to take them outside, I don’t think they will just go away on their own. I mean, would you? There is a confortable room, booze all over the place, muuch more than you can dream for, and it’s chocolate flavoured, to boot!
I HATE insects. There’s a Godawful Spider ™ that lives in my basement and comes out at night to terrorize me.