Thursday, October 9, 2008

Suicidal Cicada

So I'm traveling down the big highway after work, on my way to pick up Junebug.

  • Windows down
  • Music blaring
  • Driving speed limit

I go to pass a slow car that is driving in the FAST lane (JERK!!) and as I'm passing said car, I hear a loud noise like that car kicked up a rock onto my car (bigger JERK!!). I look sternly at slow driver and keep going.

  • Windows down
  • Music blaring
  • Driving speed limit

As I sing (or yell, I was listening to Metallica) and drive I notice I have a STOWAWAY!

There laying on my dashboard just on the left side of the driver's area is a cicada laying on its back, legs up in the air.

And I notice the legs start moving. The highway is busy, it's just past 5:00 and the idiots are loose. Do the speed limit and you will get run over. It's a scary place in the afternoon - mornings too! So I'm watching these legs twitch around and that's when I notice...the cicada is missing it's butt. Hmmm....that is very interesting.

That's what the sound was when I passed the slow car. I ran into a big fat flying cicada. Now the bug is in its death throw right here on my dashboard. See those wings? Yep, if you can move your legs you can most likely move your wings. Remember, I'm running with the fast pack at Talladega, I don't need a freaking BUG to fly up into my face and send us all crashing about and back to the garage for some quarter panel work and a new set of tires.

I conveniently have a balled up piece of trash paper in the console. I scoop up the bug and dump him out of the window. I regret this decision immediately. He would have been a nice trophy to keep. For a while, not ever. (coughdadcough)

So hooray! That bug drama is over. Let's get back to:
  • Windows down
  • Music blaring
  • Driving the speed limit

The wind knocks my curl into my eye so I reach up to push my hair out of my face. I feel my hair is wet. Why is my hair wet? I glance into the mirror to discover


Here's another picture of a cicada. The red circle indicates cicada ass. This is what was IN MY FREAKING HAIR.

I would estimate that I had about a tablespoon of cicada ass in my hair. It was whiteish yellow and disgusting as hell. I began to speed to get where I was going ASAP. I thought about stopping by my parent's house but I wasn't sure they'd be there. I knew I needed backup to get all the ass out of my hair.

I get to the sitter's and run to the bathroom. "Becky! I need your help NOW! Please!!" So Becky made sure all the ass was out of my hair and I washed my hands like I'd just been holding hands with Radium.

I've written about being attacked by killer bugs from outerspace before. And would you like to take a guess at who is headlining the local blues & jazz festival? Go ahead...just guess!

That's right - the gruesome twosome - Johnny and Edgar Winter. Writers and performers of Frankenstein with their creepy synthesizers.

So maybe the cicada was not suicidal after all. He was a kamikaze cicada doing the Winters' dirty work!

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