Mr. Cricket and the Crocketts: A Short Story By: A Cranky Pregnant Lady

It was early Sunday morning that I awoke to yet another beautiful day. Not wanting to disturb my slumbering husband, I gently slunk out of bed and our room. Once across the noise barrier of the big box fan sitting in our open bedroom doorway, I heard it…it was the sound of a hamster running in a squeaky wheel, or perhaps a malfunctioning appliance like a refrigerator or air conditioning unit that squeaks in a rhythmic manner. I approached the sound; it grew louder and louder as I drifted further from the humming box fan and closer to the source until it was unmistakable; a cricket.
Mr. Cricket was happily singing his tune of a comfortable night spent in a cozy apartment. Thinking Mr. Cricket was slightly amusing, and somewhat clever for getting into our apartment (we STILL don’t know how he got in), I decided to let him be until Dave awoke and could escort him out of our apartment. At this thought, I tried to discover just where he was so as to make the task easier when Dave awoke. To no avail did I spot the cricket, I did learn however that he was somewhere under or behind the refrigerator.
Realizing the magnitude of trying to move the fridge all by myself, I awoke Dave to come aid me in the cricket hunt. Dave pulled the unit forward a few inches and proceeded to poke and prod underneath and behind it with our fly-swatter. Mr. Cricket did not seem to like this much and hushed his chirping. Thinking the problem was solved, Dave went back to bed for a few more minutes and got ready to hop in the shower. I assumed Mr. Cricket would realize he was in foreign country and leave the way he came.
The day progressed and Dave and I were headed to church. Having a few things to take care of, Dave left a few minutes before I. Not a moment after he had walked out the door, I heard it again; this was the moment I realized Mr. Cricket was not a nice character and was mocking me from his secluded, untouchable hideout. Not only did he love his new home, but he had no plans for leaving. The only one that had seemed to earn his respect was Dave, and I was left to the incessant chirping which left me as relaxed as my first pre-natal doctors visit.
When I got back that evening, I did not hear anything. Dave wasn’t even with me; he had to stay at church and count tithing while I was left to the mercy of Mr. Cricket. Thinking I had possibly judged this character too quickly I all but forgot about him as we proceeded to have a wonderful night; that is until we went to bed…
It was late in the night when the chirping started again. Knowing Mr. Cricket was there and knowing what his taunting, teasing “call” sounded like I could NOT sleep. Even with the box fan blasting, I could hear Mr. Cricket all too well. Tonight he almost seemed bigger, stronger, and louder. I gave a silent groan and tried to sleep. Dave simply turned a deaf ear to the noise (literally), and had no problem with our guest. Between Mr. Cricket, and being pregnant, I had a terrible night. I woke the next morning looking like I had come straight from the jungle; wild, matted and ratted hair, makeup smudges from hither to yon, and a disposition to match a wet cat.
Of course, when Dave woke up that morning and swiped out silly little swatter once again under the big fridge, Mr. Cricket stopped his teasing, and remained silent until we left for school. When we got home for the day, we proceeded to look for Mr. Cricket. At that point, Dave was skilled at sliding the refrigerator in and out of its spot with ease. I guess it was good in that we got to clean out a few dust bunnies from their resting places; but alas, no cricket.
Once again Dave and I laid down to rest that night. At two thirty in the morning, my eyes flew open to the heart wrenching sound of an even louder and more diabolical Mr. Cricket. The chirping noise pounded in my ears and I knew at this point either him, or I had to go. I got out of bed and took a few swipes with the ever ready fly-swatter, but Mr. Cricket did not give me the satisfaction of any reprise. I hated him and he hated me; it was simple as that. I tried a couple of times, but he didn’t seem to care; he knew he had the upper hand. I stomped back to our bedroom where I flipped on the light-switch and irritatedly stated, “I am ready to take whatever action necessary to kill this cricket.” My wonderful husband got out of bed without one word of complaint and we headed to the kitchen.
I pulled everything off the top of and out of the fridge that would spill or break. Dave pulled it out once again, and we tipped it precariously so as to get a good view underneath. I did the holding while Dave did the searching. I leaned the fridge as far as I dare, and Dave spotted Mr. Cricket! The cricket fled to the other side of the fridge so Dave and I also raced to the other side to tip it the other way. I could hear the contents of the fridge sliding dangerously and freely back and forth as we continued this pattern. At this point, Mr. Cricket got smart and hid a little better. I set the fridge down, and Dave went to get his tools, we unscrewed the cover on the back to get a little more access and uncover a potential hiding spot. We could not find Mr. Cricket, and I was desperate at the thought of not getting sleep. We gave one last college try; I leaned the fridge just a liiiittle further and Dave looked just a tad more earnestly, and there he sat with his beady little head, and black body to match his black intentions. As Dave reached under the refrigerator, the little culprit slipped out that back. “There he goes and he is a big fella!” shouted Dave, and a chase ensued. The cricket fled for his life, but Dave was in hot pursuit, he made it as far as the pantry before he met his fateful end. In the madness of the moment, one of my flip-flops had been retrieved, and with a swing of his arm and a smacking of my shoe, I knew it was all over. Mr. Cricket lay there schmooshed and schmoosed bad. I was happy to the point of tears at what had just happened. Just to show him who was boss, we didn’t even clean up his remains that night; we just trudged back to bed and did it this morning.
I was so excited at the thought of that stupid cricket being gone, that I laid there and giggled until I was able to once again fall asleep. Never before had silence been so deafening. And never again will I look at crickets the same…

p.s. there are pictures of our 2:30 escapade that I will post later, I just didn't have time to upload them this morning. Stay tuned!