There’s an invasion of crickets in Aggieland. They’re everywhere. Thousands of them. They’re all over my truck, they’re splattered all over the basketball court and in the pool, and now, they’ve made their way into my apartment. Rocket texted me this morning, “Why are there so many crickets in College Station? You’re a biology major. You should know.” I told him that it’s impossible to study and make rational observations like a normal human being after you’ve declared war. These crickets are free entertainment, and they’ve marched into a house of death.
I went online to see what crickets liked to eat. Like most insects, they eat organic material like old decaying fruit. One day I left the door open in my apartment with an old banana opened up. The crickets walked in and maybe saw it as a sign of peace. They were horribly mistaken. I got a can of WD40 and a match. Yeah, that’s homemade napalm, crickets. Welcome to hell. This is war. I’ve left a few alive so they can go back outside battered and beaten and burned so other animals will eat them because I want the frogs to have a little taste of some Texas barbeque too.
I caught about 10 crickets one time and put them all in my toilet. They all just scrambled and tried their hardest to make it out of the watery torture chamber. Some would make it to the side and you could see it in their tiny faces that they were exhausted from swimming. Then a yellow laser rips down from the heavens! Back in the water, crickets. Your time is not done. As they made their way back, flush.
For all the awful chirping they do 24 hours a day, I trapped a few into a Tupperware container and set them in front of my speakers and blasted heavy metal as loud as possible. Don’t like all the noise crickets? Well that’s too bad. *turns volume up* They were losing their tiny little minds in the tiny, cricket sized Guantanamo Bay prison camp I was running.
I’m still thinking of ways to torture them to make them understand that I will destroy every one of them even if it takes me the rest of my life. Am I a maniac for doing this to the crickets? No because they’re crickets and I’m pretty sure they don’t have feelings.