The Attack of the Camel Cricket


Do you see this nasty thing? It's called a camel cricket and I just had a violent encounter with one in my bathroom. I'm not trying to defend my actions but let me just say this... he started it.

It's 10:15 PM, I finish brushing my teeth and put my toothbrush in the holder. As I do, something large and brown on the back right shoulder of my white t-shirt catches my attention. It's a full-grown camel cricket, waving its slimy little antenna at me.

I do what any rational, sane person would do, which is to start screaming hysterically. Camel crickets may be entirely harmless but for those not familiar with the breed, let me tell you, they have super powers. They can leap across the room and are adept at avoiding hard sole shoes banged on the floor in an attempt to smoosh them. These suckers MOVE.

Which has its advantages. Normally they'll flit away at any sign of action. Note I said, "normally." So I'm screaming (Blair's still at work, so it's just me and the cats who at my first scream ran to guard their food dishes) and I flick my hand at the camel cricket. It friggin' crawls closer up my shoulder, near my neck.

Baby, listen to my vocals now. Screeching, I flick at it again and rip my shirt off, beating it on the bathroom floor. I cautiously lift the shirt. No sign of the cricket. I told you they're fast. Then a horrible, dreadful thought occurs to me. I slowly turn toward the mirror. My hair.

My hair has grown out considerably from the photo you see at the right. Plus, I let it air dry after showering tonight, so it's a wild mass of tangled curls--the perfect hiding lair for a sneaky camel cricket. cc2.jpg

I start beating my head, simultaneously holding out strands of curls and shaking them. I don't know if I'm more afraid of finding it or not finding it. Luckily, I think, I find nothing.

"Oh, you are so dead when I find you," I announce. "Don't say you weren't warned."

I grab a shoe and prep for battle. After a close examination of the bathroom, I find my enemy cowering under the counters. I thrust a shoe at him. He leaps away--and disappears.

Friggin' stupid t*&%%* camel cricket.

Then-aha! I spy a leg near the toilet. BAM! BAM! I got him! He's smooshed. BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM. (I feel it best to err on the side of caution when it comes to "smooshed" status.)

So I'm safe now. Although my enemy has left his mark. In the 10 minutes it's taken me to type this entry, I've looked over my shoulder and shook my hair out about twenty times. Just in case I missed something.

Lesson? You mess with me, you get the hard end of the heel.