A cricket hopped into my room last night. I tried to catch him, but he hopped about the room in a psychotic manner: with the speed of a freaking bullet. So I found myself sitting on my bed, eyeing him off and trying to catch him every now and then but always epic failing. He scared me a little, I admit. It was irrational of me to fear him. It was just something about the way he jumped so FREAKING high and with such speed...

When I crouched down on the floor with a glass cup to catch him with: I spotted him near my half done Starry Night sketch. But of course I couldn't catch him. In fact, I saw him hop off The Trial and onto Perfume before he made his way under my bed. Shifty bugger. I didn't really want to leave him there. How could I sleep knowing that there's a psychotic cricket under my bed, waiting for me to be vulnerable enough for him to make a move?

I finally decided on searching under my bed until I finally found him. No matter what it took. I didn't need to search very long because I soon found him in my school shoe. Imagine! After all that time! I caught him and put him in a little container with some soggy bread. Of course I had to keep him. Something about him reminded me of Moriarty showing up at the swimming pool, saying 'I GAVE YOU MY NUMBER. I THOUGHT YOU'D CAAAAALL'. What? He is psychotic and has a pretty high voice and bounds about like he's had far too many red cordials. He's chirping away right now. I'd let him go, but there's something cute about him. I can grow attached to bugs, you know. He's not that different from my skull, actually. And no, John, I don't care. He's not loud and if you come into my bedroom tonight, intent on killing him as you so happily suggested upon doing: then I'll be waiting. You forget, John, that I am an insomniac. I can stay up for as long as I want without growing tired. Oh, look at him. Isn't he cute?