My twin and her husband are visiting this week. Today Sherry and I were talking about blogs I had posted and she reminded me of the "cicada incident", one of her favorites. So I am reposting that blog tonight because that was way before I even knew about facebook and I know some of you are dying to read it. So, Here goes.
July 01, 2009
This morning as I got in my car to head to the bank and post office, I was startled by a cicada planted on my car windshield. The thing was over two and one-half inches long.
"Shoo!" I said and flapped my hands at it. But it stayed there with just his antennae waving back and forth, obviously trying to figure out what that monumental thing was doing in front of him.
"Well, then. Have it your way, but I must tell you that we're going to the bank." And I took off toward town with Mr. Green hanging on for dear life.
Then I picked up speed.
"Hang on!" I hollered. Check out those anatennae flying behind him in the wind. "Whee!" I thought I heard him say.
Truett was with me so I told him to remove the cicada while I was in the bank. "Not doing it," he said. "All I have to do is swish the wipers once and our problem is solved."
"NO! You can't do that!"
"Then you'll have to get him off yourself." Truett answered.
So after my banking was done I took the banking slip and tried to slide it under Mr. Green. I didn't know this before today, but these guys have something akin to suction cups on the bottoms of their feet. He would not slide. "Cheeeeeee!" it hissed.
So instead I flicked my wrist and flipped him down between the windshield wipers and car hood. "Now I've done it," I moaned. So on to the Post Office we went, with me talking about how we could get Mr. Green back to the windshield instead of the hole he was in.
"Well," Truett said. "You'll have to dig him out of there."
"But I may kill him. We can't just kill him." I said.
"Stop worrying about that blankety-blank bug," Truett quipped. Then Truett took heart and said he would get him out when we arrived home. I was driving my husband crazy.
So what does Truett do? He grabs Mr. Green by an antenna and pulls. "Oops!" I heard him murmer. "I just pulled an antenna off."
"Darn it, Truett. Why didn't you just pick up his body?" But I promptly shut my mouth when I saw my husband glaring at me.
"Done!" Truett said and flicked the cicada to the ground. . .
. . .safe and sound, minus one-half of an antenna.
Do you think Mr. Green learned a lesson today? I certainly hope so or I'm afraid it will be the windshield wipers next time.
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