Thursday, March 16, 2006

The great cricket massacre at No 5!

Aye, t'was a dark and stormy night.............well it was night, so therefore in this part of the world it was dark, and the stormy was more like, a bit breezy. The clouds scudded across the sky, playing hide and seek with the moon. (We're going for a bit of drama here!)

High in their fortress, atop the tallest bookcase in the lounge, the new brigade of crickets were settling into to their new billet. They pinged, chirped and rustled, making themselves comfortable and enjoying a feast of dried cat food. Little did they know that unexpected terror lurked, and not the 8 legged variety this time. Terror came on little cat feet, clad in black velvet and a ninja mask.

Nothing was heard. No crash. No screams as the massacre took place. Swiped from their cliff top abode and scattered across the lounge floor. Those that fled could. The others, well, all that remained was the odd limb. The ninja caused no other damage and well satisfied with his nights work, curled up in his lair, on the patchwork knitting bag and slept replete and nourished.
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Now in the morning, in came the human male to find the carnage and remains of last nights banquet. He went to rouse his mate (who had hardly slept more than 2 hours all night and was not of a jolly disposition) to spread the tidings. Ah yes the tidings (to she who hates crickets - cos they give her the willies) that the survivors were most likely behind the furniture and could emerge throughout the day. Also, alas and alack, that he needed to dismantle the behind the sofa yarn stash as that seemed a likely cricket bolt hole. "Nooooooooooo!" she screamed "Not in my yarn."

The sofa was dragged out. The precious, luckily bagged and sealed yarn, gently removed and shaken and underneath there they were. A few stragglers, no luggage and no hope in their eyes and they were quickly hoovered up by the whirling Dyson. Twelve was all that remained of that happy band of brothers. The other eight - well who knows - are they lurking? Were they eaten alive?

Gives a whole new meaning to the term 'a cricket tea' though.

1 comment:

zib said...

I'm giggling but in a nervous and totally skeeved way. May The Force be with you and the hoovering!

BUGS! YECK!!