Unlike my kinfolk crickets who live with me in
this upscale cricket bin and think they’re
living their best lives, like uppity insects
privileged beyond measure and singing
cricket songs and partying 24/7,
being fed for free every single day –
I know the freakin’ score.
I know what you’re thinking. How can a dumb
cricket have these thoughts when other
crickets act like they barely have any brains?
You see I’m an anomaly, and I suspect I was
an SOB human in a former life with mountains
of bad karma that devolved me, that degraded
me, to this downsized ill fated cricket food life.
But despite the fact I probably was an SOB
in a reckless, wanton, evil and villainous life,
and I had to pay penance as a cricket in this life,
why couldn’t I have been a cricket in the wild
instead of imprisoned in this PetSmart gulag?
At least outta here I could have had a chance
of living a long and happy life without it ending
in the stomach of a freakin’ ravenous lizard.
My only hope, far as I can see, is that maybe,
just maybe, some tree hugging do-gooder will
get it into his or her head to come to PetSmart
and buy me and my compatriots and liberate
us from this freakin’ stinkin’ kill zone gulag
and if you live anywhere near the
Greensboro, NC PetSmart, man up or
woman up and please do. I’m begging you.
For now all I can so is practice my stealth
by dodging those scoopers every time one
of those PetSmart workers oblivious to my
plight tries to scoop me outta here and into
a frenzied monster lizard’s awaiting mouth.
So far so freakin’ good.
P.S. That’s me with the sign. I’m trying to
get what the Buddhist call merit with the
hope of a better next life.
