This story is crazy, but true. It began recently, when the seller of my used Hyundai presented a gift-boxed Totes key chain to sweeten the deal closing. I could whistle at this device, he said, to locate my lost keys. I can't whistle, so I dropped the key chain into a box at the top of my basement stairs.
That same night, a cricket in our basement began chirping aggressively. He sang throughout the night, six chirps in sequence, then a moment of silence... then six chirps more. He finally stilled at sunrise. The cricket lullaby resumed at moonrise on the second and third nights. As before, he continued in a peculiar rhythm that I've never heard from crickets. By the third night, Dennis expressed frustration because cricket-singing was cutting into his Z-time.
I am a night-owl, and a curious one, at that. On the third night, I stayed in the living room to solve the mystery of the counting cricket. At about midnight, I finally heard the key chain emit a high-pitched peep. I moved closer: six peeps in a row. The lonely cricket responded with six chirps.. six mechanical peeps... six chirps. The cricket was wooing the key chain!
I went to bed with a big smile on my face, charmed by the curiouslove story unfolding in our home. As I slipped between the sheets, Dennis mumbled, "Did you figure out the cricket thing?" With a chuckle, I revealed my discovery. He asked if I got rid of the key chain. I replied that the whole situation was too amusing to tamper with. I fell asleep smiling at the sounds of the cricket and his mechanical mistress.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the cricket serenade ceased. When I awoke in the morning, his shiny Totish girlfriend floated, LED down, in our bathroom sink. The prime suspect in the murder whistled his way out the door to the men's prayer breakfast.
That same night, a cricket in our basement began chirping aggressively. He sang throughout the night, six chirps in sequence, then a moment of silence... then six chirps more. He finally stilled at sunrise. The cricket lullaby resumed at moonrise on the second and third nights. As before, he continued in a peculiar rhythm that I've never heard from crickets. By the third night, Dennis expressed frustration because cricket-singing was cutting into his Z-time.
I am a night-owl, and a curious one, at that. On the third night, I stayed in the living room to solve the mystery of the counting cricket. At about midnight, I finally heard the key chain emit a high-pitched peep. I moved closer: six peeps in a row. The lonely cricket responded with six chirps.. six mechanical peeps... six chirps. The cricket was wooing the key chain!
I went to bed with a big smile on my face, charmed by the curious
Sometime in the middle of the night, the cricket serenade ceased. When I awoke in the morning, his shiny Totish girlfriend floated, LED down, in our bathroom sink. The prime suspect in the murder whistled his way out the door to the men's prayer breakfast.
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