Enter the plague.
My sweet little town is being overrun by locusts. Well okay, actually, they're cicadas. And they're EVERYWHERE. and it's only JUNE. USUALLY, cicadas flourish later in the summer, but holy cow! The noise is so deafening that walking outside near trees hurts your ears; looking out the window shows dozens flying around in the middle of the day; and one flew right into John's neck while we were playing disc golf last night, causing him to leap about five feet and manically pound himself in the neck and chest in horror. They covered the trees on the course and were so loud that we had to shout to talk to each other where the path veered too near their lair.
If I suddenly disappear into oblivion, look for my remains under a lump on crawling, buzzing cicadas. They litter the sidewalks. They veer through the air. It's "The Birds", part two.
Good bye, sweet world. Scoot over, butler: the cicadas did it.
The year you turned two, we had a summer like that. We were living in Tipton on Conde St. It was a MISERABLY hot summer, and the noise of the cicadas seemed like the last straw sometimes - they were loud enough to keep us awake at night. And we spent the nights in the living room on the ground floor because the bedrooms (upstairs) were too miserable for ANY kind/amount of sleep.
Ick! And in June??!! Are they the scary-looking black ones with red eyes?
I'm not afraid of the greeny-black ones with black eyes, just the ones with red eyes. Shiver.
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