Confucious say: Cricket lucky…until Erin get hold of it….
One summer day in the late 80’s, I decided to go outside and play in the backyard. As I stepped out onto our carport I looked down to see a dead cricket right in front of the door. Something caught my eye a few inches away. It was another dead cricket. Two feet later, another cricket.
I followed a trail of dead crickets that snaked its way around the house to the backyard. On the ground was Erin, squatting—dirty knees, bare feet, wild hair— live cricket in one hand, a hammer in the other.
I stood frozen for a moment, taking in what was in front of me before turning on my heel and breaking into a run for the door. Something caught my arm just as I was getting to the door. It was Erin’s fist, with the strength of a medium sized gorilla, grasping my upper arm and spinning me around to face her. I looked down into her intense eyes, wide and dilated, teeth bared. She growled in my face, “DON’T TELL MOMMMMM!!!!”
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