The Cricket
This is a true story. I'm not exactly sure how to interpret it, but I promise that it really did happen.
On my way to make a pot of coffee one morning, I nearly stepped on a cricket. It had somehow gotten through the garage door during the night, and now rested on a square of ceramic tile in my kitchen, its antennae twitching nervously and its glassy little eyes gleaming in the overhead fluorescent.
On my way to make a pot of coffee one morning, I nearly stepped on a cricket. It had somehow gotten through the garage door during the night, and now rested on a square of ceramic tile in my kitchen, its antennae twitching nervously and its glassy little eyes gleaming in the overhead fluorescent.
I stared at it for a few seconds, trying to decide
what to do. I couldn’t just leave it where it was and hope that it somehow
found its way outside. Not an option.
Finally, I tore a paper towel from the roll on the counter,
picked the cricket up and carried it to the back of the house. I opened the
door and gently placed it on the patio.
“There,” I said. “You’re free!”
But before I turned to walk away, a lizard darted
from under the barbecue grill, gobbled the cricket up and swallowed it whole.