A hairworm begins its life in the water where it waits to get eaten by a mayfly larva. There it resides for a while until the mayfly is able to fly, and then it continues to patiently wait until that mayfly gets eaten by a cricket. When the cricket eats the mayfly, the hairworm takes over the cricket’s brain and forces him to commit suicide by drowning himself in the river. And then finally, it leaves his body and enjoys the rest of its life in the water.
This is the story of a cricket.
On a cold and rainy night our tiny, insignificant cricket walked along the ocean shore. He liked walking along the shore, while nearly all the crickets were terrified of water, our little guy was more terrified of his specie than he was of the waters, The big dark waves were enough to stop most crickets from getting anywhere close to the shore, but it is this solitude that made our little guy feel so much more at home. Also, the cycle of waves relaxed him a lot, he felt as if the ocean provided him with loving support and affection, caressing him tenderly with each wave. And it’s the constant repetition of the waves that he was most fond of, it let him know that he could always count on the ocean to provide him with love, that no matter, it will never betray him.
Our cricket’s name is Feeps, awfully common name for a cricket, perhaps 30 percent of all crickets have been named Feeps, I still have no clue why. And maybe just as shocking is the fact that all crickets have an education system, and in fact, tonight was supposed to be Feeps’ graduation party, but he did not come, funny thing is he doesn’t even know if he graduated high school but he really couldn’t care less. He did not want to go to college, that he was certain of. No more sitting in chairs unless they’re his own, that was his philosophy for his career after high-school. But what could he be? I enjoy painting, hmm, no I don’t, I just enjoy the idea of it, but whenever I try it I just suffer. I enjoy making music, hmm, no I, don’t, I just enjoy the... Yeah I see how this goes. Nothing that I actually enjoy doing huh? I do like comedy actually, but crickets are a rough crowd.”
He wondered for a while and couldn’t come up with any answer outside of being a comedian, so he just became a comedian. The crickets were indeed not so fond of comedy, but he really didn’t care. He did it for himself, quite literally in fact as he didn’t even perform in front of the crickets, instead, he performed it all to himself as he walked each night on the ocean shore. It never made him truly satisfied, but anything else made him even less so. But perhaps a bigger reason why he pursued this bizarre lifestyle was because a tiny part of him had hoped that just maybe, since he was in such a vast a clear terrain as the shore, it’s possible that someone interesting might hear his jokes and laugh, even if they were miles away. Who even cares if it’s a cricket or not, if that person was liked his jokes, it’s all that mattered.
“You know those crazy human folk?” He said as he began his nightly skit while walking along the shore (this one’s fresh material, so be gentle), ”I read on some paper that they made some pig-human mutations, now that really got me thinking, what if they ever make cricket-human mutations? Think about that! You being part human, Jesus!