We’re in the full swing of summer and that means one thing, besides the heat: crickets! Not the boring game in England, I mean those little pests that make horrible noises with their legs. The noise can be deafening and you definitely don’t want one of these little bastards in your house. You’ll never find it and it will multiply in some crevice that’s impossible to find.
Crickets rub their legs together to make that horrid sound in an attempt to attract a female. It’s their version of the crickets dating game.
What a great concept! You rub your legs together, a hot female cricket hears it and hops over. You see she’s wearing something low cut and at least two of her six legs are smokin’ hot. She must workout!
You rub your legs together harder and faster so she knows you’re ready for action….right there in the middle of the parking garage in a crevice at the bottom of a support stanchion.
She’s coming closer. You think, this is it. I’m totally gonna do her cricket style.
Then you see it. Her fourth leg is all cellulite. She’s wearing an Affliction t-shirt and Tammy Faye Baker did her makeup (if you get that one, you’re old).
And there you have it, the Cricket Dating Game.
I have no idea why this weird shit runs through my head.
Here’s another thought: do either of them have a choice or do they just mate and reproduce with the first thing that comes along? If the male is trying to attract a female, I think he takes what he can get. But the female, I would assume, could say, oh hellz no! He ain’t makin’ nearly enough noise with them laygs!
I have a friend who’s the curator of a science museum in Norman, Oklahoma. She’s an entomologist or bug girl or something creepy like that. I don’t know….that shit creeps me out! I guess I could ask her. But isn’t it much more fun to make up your own story about why crickets do the nasty? I mean, if the president of the United States can just make up shit, well, so can I.
Here’s how I think this whole thing goes down…
It’s a Tuesday afternoon in the big city. The temperature is a blazing 98º and Walter the Cricket is feeling good. His rubbin’ legs are in great shape. After all, he’s been working on them all spring. Now is his chance. He’s gonna rub those bitches together until the hottest cricket in ten square feet comes over for a little nooner in the vacant lot.
He does some squats, a few pushups, he checks all six of his arm pits and makes sure they don’t smell.
Uh oh, number five isn’t doing well. He finds a pile of dog shit and crawls on top to rub the bad pit.
There we go. All is good.
He haunches back on his two legs…or arms….no one really fucking knows, and prepares to direct his symphony of love.
It sounds like ten decks of tiny playing cards being shuffled over and over again through a loud speaker; like all 520 cards are on 520 little bicycle tires with clothespins (another one…you’re old if you got that).
The echo is deafening. It bounces off the crack house to the west, the homeless shelter to the east.
But wait, what the hell is that noise?
Walter rubs harder, as hard as he can. A bead of sweat runs down his left eye and starts to build on one antenna. He can’t stop! If he stops, he loses. If he loses, he’s resigned to masturbating in the Little Debbie wrapper on the sidewalk.
Screw that sweat ball. He arches his back and pushes those arm brushes as high as he can.
He’s so tired. The act is exhausting and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold out.
“Just five more minutes,” he tells himself.
Two. He’s not going to make it.
One…..with seconds to spare, Walter looks up and sees her. She’s beautiful. A little trashy with her yellow tube top and she’s obviously had some work done on the chest. But otherwise, she’s smokin’ hot with those six beautiful legs.
Afterwards, completely spent and relaxing in the Little Debbie wrapper, blowing smoke rings and holding two hands, Walter rolls over and asks how it was for her.
“Ehh,” she says.
He asks if he can see her again.
She gives him a slight nod and says, “I guess. It wasn’t all bad and since I’m pregnant I’ll need a baby daddy to help…..”
They never saw that foot coming!
You guessed correctly if you said, “Sean is completely insane!”
Enjoy your weekend. I’m heading back to yoga to clear the insanity.