Right now as I sit here, there is a box of crickets sitting on my coffee table, staring me in the face.
Sour Cream and Onion, to be specific.
It’s there because Dave loves me and when he recently took a trip to Nashville just for the heck of it, he saw them and thought he’d do me a favor for a Lollipop Tuesday. He was in Nashville. He could have brought back boots, a country music CD, a butt cheek with a the smeared, faded signature of a country starlet, or a shirt that said “My boyfriend went to Nashville and all I got was this lousy t-shirt”. But he remembered that I’ve been hunting for something repulsive to eat for one of my Lollipop Tuesdays (suggested by some of my not-so-easily-pleased readers), and lugged back a box of crickets. That’s love.
I am petrified with fear.
I can just imagine their crunchy back legs rolling around in my mouth as I masticate them. I can imagine their once-upon-a-time summer song. The late nights I stayed in bed, happy to hear them causing a ruckus in my backyard. I don’t know if I can do this.
Unfortunately, I think I’m going to have to. I already have one Lollipop Tuesday I’m putting off until I “feel up to it”, which is the lovely poll I took a few weeks ago on whether or not I had to repeat my open mic session due to light attendance that particular evening. And because 51.16% of you are cold and heartless, you voted a do-over. So that’s still on the to-do list.
The last thing I need in addition to my overwhelming guilt and fear to do another open mic is a box of crickets staring me in the face.
Dave says they’re like chips. “Just think of them as little chips”, he says. But they’re not chips. They’re insects. And I can see their eyes.
They’ll be staring into my soul while I sleep at night. ♣