Stalking My Prey, I Moved Like A Thief In The Night: Victorious, I Exited The Attic- A Tale Of Heroism

This morning, my older daughter sauntered down the stairs with a pained look on her face. Normally, she is bright-eyed and ready to tackle the day at hand. Not today. Today she was unable to gain her bearing.

“Dad, I’m tired as fuck. I barely slept at all because a bug kept chirping all night.”

Gutted, I said my child, “I’m sorry, honey. Would you like a warmed stroopwafel and perhaps a tea to start your day?”

“That would be lovely,” she said to me while gathering her lunch materials.

Deep in my soul, I knew that revenge would be had. No one causes my daugthers’ sleep. No one. Not even a bug.

Responsibly, I took my children to school with their backpack and lunch pails in tow. I minded the traffic laws even though I was eager to get home and slay bodies.

“Goodbye, father,” they shouted as they excited our 2017 Chevy Tahoe. “I’ll miss you,” they said while fighting back tears. “You’re the best dad in the entire world.”

I drove away and headed to Starbucks to get a venti cold brew with just a touch of sweet cream. I’m on a diet now but I love that fucking sweet cream.

As I entered my house and threw the cup away, I heard it. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. The noise was loud and it was overwhelming. I began to softly cry thinking about the torture that my daughters had to endure the night before.

“Your mine,” I uttered my breath. “I will kill you.” A smile crept on my face. I was back at home but I was about to be in the shit again.

I headed to the kitchen to grab my salt gun. Now, I know that many of you hate the idea of harming an innocent bug. If death bothers you, please stop reading.

I stalked my prey. Slowly. Methodically. I took small steps softly up the stairs. Pausing. Pausing. Pausing. I needed to hear the chirps. They were calling me like the wild to Jack London. I must follow the sounds without making any of my own.

I stopped in each room. It was a murder version of hot and cold. With each step, I could hear the chirps telling me, “warmer. Warmer. Warmer.”

I stood below the attic stairs and faintly heard the chirp directly overhead. Grabbing the string, I pulled the steps down and saw the fucking cricket looking me in the eyes which are healed by the way. His eyes grew bigger. Mine grew more focused. I clicked my weapon off safe and raised it into position.

The shot rang out.

“Tango down!” I screamed.

The cricket was dead but I felt alive for the first time in months. Anyway, here’s wonderwall.