Stalked by Crickets

Measure

I have a herd of crickets following me, just waiting for the next awkward conversation moment I create. I wonder if a new eyeglass prescription would change this by helping me see the world like most other people seem to view it.

Like the time in Paul’s late father’s hospital room right after he had a quintuple bypass. Peter lay on the bed, hugging his heart-shaped coughing pillow, surrounded by his wife, three sons, and me.

Well, he wasn’t surrounded by the youngest one, who’d elected once again to make a serious situation about himself, this time sliding down the wall to sit on the floor “because I might pass out oh how I hate hospitals is everyone paying attention to me now? Good because no one knows my pain no one’s ever suffered as I do even starving children in third-world countries have no clue what pain is and here I am swimming in free money from a massive trust fund, white, male, and American. Dad who?” Or something like that. I paraphrase.

Although grateful for not being the only weirdo in the room, I tried to break the subsequent uncomfortable silence by Florence Nightingale’ing over to Peter’s bedside and asking if I could get him anything. He said he was fine.

I looked down at his table and saw a plastic cup with little numbered marks on it and thought, “That’s interesting. They measure how much water he drinks.”

Figuring fluid intake must be important to his doctors, I picked up the container and offered to get him a drink. I instantly knew there was a problem because the crickets began clearing their throats on a Wagnerian level, and the humans became mannequins, eyes bulging.

Ever the courteous Englishman, Peter declined as Paul whispered, “That’s his pee cup, Sweetie.”

Upon reconsideration, I prefer my eyeglasses the way they are.

cricket_public domain
Different kind of cricket, but how fun would it be if a game broke out next to me during an awkward moment?

Discussion question: Do crickets gather in herds? Gangs? Choirs?

 

 

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