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A cricket mob

September 26th, 2018 Leave a comment Go to comments

Aaaaand there they go again. The crickets. Chirp, chirp, chirp, there’s just no end to it. Not that it’s the sound that bothers me, far from it. I grew up in the country and am actually comforted by the music of nature at night, but there’s something far more sinister going on here. I’ve wracked my brain for a solution to it, but I cannot come up with anything that doesn’t make me seem like I’m a witting accomplice. I mean, how do you explain to the police that you have a group of crickets in your lawn running an illegal casino without looking guilty?

I first noticed it when I was mowing the lawn and saw small white particles ejecting out the side of the machine, which turned out to be a deck of miniature playing cards. I finished the remaining lawn and then walked to the spot in back, where I soon located a few tiny blackjack and poker tables. It was mind-blowing. My feet started involuntarily dancing before I could remember the watch where I stepped, and when I looked down to examine the ground, I indeed found a small crushed slot machine. Backing away slowly for several steps before turning to run, I bolted into the house to grab my camera.

The rest of the day was consumed by mapping out the casino and speculation over which could be using all this stuff (I counted more than 150 slot machines). Curiosity was banging around in my head in every direction, so I went to the electronics shop and had them set up an elaborate surveillance system around a very specific area in the backyard. My berating them not to set foot into the rectangle I had cordoned off drew some concerned looks, but I had a way of researching them now. I was stoked.

It was incredible at first because I wasn’t expecting anything, so all of it fascinated me. A few nights of watching the activity had to go by before I realized everyone at the casino was a cricket. Everyone. I started recording during the day too and noticed every other insect in that quadrant would dash outside of it just before dusk, every day. The crickets working the casino would hop in immediately afterward, quickly repairing anything that had been damaged during the day. Once the sun set, the deluge descended, and within two hours it was packed. I was thrilled to be recording it.

But when I would watch some of the various individual camera footages, I began to notice that things that were abnormal for a cricket’s behavior (naturally I’ve been researching that topic constantly), most notably, killing one another with what appeared to be a grass blade. It was quite gruesome up close, and it happened again and again, leaving me wondering if I should just chop down that section of grass, though by then I knew I’d have to just plow under the rest as well to do the right thing. By then I understood the employees and bosses to behave in a mobbish fashion because I had watched so much footage that the conclusion was inescapable.

Like I say, it’s not the chirping that bothers me, and god knows there’s a lot of it each night. That place can draw a crowd. I feel a real ethical dilemma about it, because thugs are wrong in any context. Why not crickets? Salt the earth right there! But at the same time I find it fascinating what goes on there every night, and that I have recordings of it all! The problem is that if this gets out, I look like an abetter to the heinous crimes committed on my lawn. If I confess myself, no one will believe I’m innocent because of the documented evidence I possess, and I’m not even sure I’m innocent at this point either.

So it’s not the chirps. The gunshots keep me up.

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