I'm pretty sure the ghetto attracts just as many bugs to take up permanent residence as the forest does. I know this because every year come summertime I wage war with the crickets as to who gets to live in my place, me or them. The year we paid for terminx all summer was the easiest summer of my life.
Most who know me, know I'm terrified insects period. The idea that they are lurking in the corners of my room is enough to give me nightmares for a week. And as the weather gets warmer, the bastards think they have a right to live in my house. For two summers I lived with a cricket that chirped all night in a hole in my wall. Finally we cemented that fucker in, and he hasn't been heard from since. But somehow they still keep coming. This summer's greatest surprise to date was last week, when I went to put on my shoes to leave for work and I felt something foreign in there. I tipped the shoe upside down, and the biggest cricket I have ever seen in my life hopped out of my usual weapon of choice (besides my huge nursing textbooks). I think a part of me died when I saw it. I'm never going to be the same
In the past week alone the death toll is Crickets: 6, Kris: 0. As much as these home wreckers instill fear in me, I AM STILL WINNING. So crickets, you may as well move on out, because I promise, my toilet has room to flush you straight to hell for many many years to come.