One time, I saw this cricket in the kitchen. Goddamn thing was huge (and winged, of all things. Oh, the humanity!). It was sitting in the corner of the wall, standing still. I didn't trust it. I was keeping an eye on it from a distance. I had my giilfriend with me. She kept laughing of how terrified I was we had a damn flighted bug next room. He could land on our faces at any time!

I looked away for a few moments, but when I looked back, it had moved. It was now closer to the veranda. "Good, maybe it'll just go away", I thought. But it didn't. So I took upon myself the horrible, dangerous, probably suicidal task of killing it with a sandal.

I approached it slowly, wondering if it knew I was coming, if it had its guard up, if it was going to fly at me and get stuck in my hair. Oh, jesus fuck.

I attacked. It feel on the floor, nearly dead. It was still squirming. "What should I do?", I asked my girlfriend. "It's suffering!", I said. Looking closer at it, it looked like it had something coming out of it. "It was giving birth", she said. I lifted my hand and smashed it hard, trying to kill it once and for all.

It wasn't until later we found crickets lay eggs. But I felt horrible at the time.