Creepy Crawlers Through The Crevices

Creepy Crawlers from the Crevices Heyes finished reading the diaries to the sound of the Kid’s snickering, and dropped the limp book on the ground. Seeing the looks of perplexed disdain on the faces of the two former outlaws, O’Gursey suggested, “Ah well, perhaps it would be best if we returned to the tale of your lives.” “Personally, my opinion is it would be best if you returned us to our real lives,” commented Heyes dryly. “But you have no real lives. I would think you two would be realizing that by now. You see it is like the book where it cannot be told whether it is the White King’s dream or the little lassie’s dream. Which is really to say that it is a dream either way, and should you be criticizing and complaining if I give you life? You see my point, do you nae?” “I feel real enough to me,” said the Kid. “Look if I wasn’t real I couldn’t feel, right? And, I do feel, so I must be real. So, I’m not a dream.” O’Gursey shook his head sadly and confided loudly to Heyes, “your friend is nae so the sharpest ax in the shed, is he now?” “He’s smart enough,” responded Heyes testily, “and he’s made a good point. How long is this tale of yours anyway? I think we’d like to pin down how much more we have to listen to, and when we go back. Also, when did no become nae?” “If you’re real how is it you can see what I am speaking?” queried the little man sharply. Curry and Heyes exchanged a glance. “Now I thought we had an agreement on this already. I was to tell the tale, and when it is done I send you back. If you are lucky, another picks up a thread of your life and you continue, and if not, well, that is the fate of fictional characters, is it nae? Now, don’t you worry none, the two of you are fortunate in that you have no shortage of feminine admirers more than willing to spin yarns that keep you going, even after you have died in some of the stories. And that is where you two laddies really have the luck of an O’Reilly. With all you have been through, you should by rights be dead as proverbial doornails. Ah I see the look on your faces, admit it now, you have been hurt and injured well beyond repair, driven to madness, driven to near madness, driven to desperation, and driven to extremities beyond all. Yet you survive. Ah, I should have your luck; I’ll be gone when my tales are over…” “So that’s why you’re stringing these stupid stories on,” yelped Curry. “You don’t control whether we live or die or go back…” “The same person who controls that also controls your fate,” finished Heyes.

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O’Gursey’s eyes moistened with tears. “I’ve said too much. Now the two of you wouldn’t be denying me my wee life, now would ye?” He looked at the two men pleadingly. The two glanced again at each other and shrugged their shoulders. “Oh go on already, O’Gursey. We’ll listen until you’re done. Looks like we’ve got no choice anyway.” “Now you are talking,” said O’Gursey smiling at Heyes. “Oh and let me tell you,” he said leaning close to Heyes and Curry, and whispering, “it’s no one lassie controls our fates. Like I said before, feminine admirers,” and he winked at the men. “they mean well, but they don’t always have a good grasp of what a real outlaw’s life would be like, which is why you lead such um, exceptional and unusual existence’s. And, I can tell you with frankness, this one who is telling my tales is one of the worst offenders. Take this story, for example.” He leaned back and began his next tale. "It began as an ordinary Kansas day, although you are probably aware by now that where you two are involved, there were to be no ordinary days in Kansas before the Civil War, or even after." He paused, flicked the ashes out of his pipe and continued, with no further interruptions, with the rest as follows: John Heyes was up and out of his mock-Tudor farmhouse at daybreak. Here, it must be noted, that O’Gursey had completely forgotten the names he had used in his previous stories, and was now ‘winging’ it. To continue, John Heyes walked out the front door, and entirely missed the evil grin on the face of the flat dark-brown insect scuttling on his porch. In fact, he missed seeing the insect entirely, which is not surprising as he was scanning the morning horizon, which was far lovelier than the planks beneath his booted feet. However, there was an insect on the planks, and it did have an evil grin. It sneered as Farmer John passed, and looking back gave a signal to its compatriots to join it. Darkbrown heads popped up from various hiding spots. The creatures waved their antennae and began forward, backwards and generally in all directions on their path of destruction. Mary Heyes was at her wood stove as she was every morning at this time. It had to be lit, and breakfast prepared before her husband returned from his morning chores. In addition, she had children to feed including a baby. Since grocery stores weren’t handy at this time, and Gerber’s was yet a gleam in the eye of the wonderful unborn man who invented premushed baby food, she had to cook separate food for her youngest, and mortar and pestle it into an unrecognizable yet easily digestible paste. The cows had to be milked, and the chickens and the pigs fed. Her eldest children, still too young for these chores were sent out to do what plains children did best; go in search

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of buffalo chips to replace the supply she would use to light the stove for the day. Ah, imagine the lovely odor of a prairie stove, and in addition, the wonderful heat that it would produce. Mind you, it was summer and perhaps a little hot to begin with. Soon Mary was wiping her brow with the sleeve of the only dress she owned. What a day she had to look forward to! After breakfast, she would clean the dishes, that is after pumping water at the well, and it was sewing day. Her spinning wheel called to her. What she called back to it, we cannot print. She would spin, then she had thread to dye, clothes to mend, and as the children were growing, new clothes to sew. Fortunately there were some empty flour sacks she could make sturdy pants for the boys from, and who in Kansas was bothered if the rear-ends had Mile’s Flour printed on them. After all, all the men were wearing pants of a similar fashion this year on the plains. She was thinking over how she would artistically place the lettering, when she felt a tickle sensation travel up her leg. She raised her dress to see what the cause was and let out a shriek. “A cockroach! How disgusting.” She shook off the unwanted insect and stepped on it. The cockroach, undaunted, raised itself up as if to say, ‘I am a cockroach, and you cannot snuff out my life so easily.’ Mary raised her foot to re-squash the too-sturdy insect, and halted mid-air. The cockroach was not alone. It had companions, hundreds, no, thousands of crawling companions. They were marching into the kitchen at a quick march rate, covering the floor so rapidly that it soon became a wriggling black mass. The frightened woman hastened to her toddler, I mean her baby, on the high chair and grabbed the babe in the nick of time. The black crawlers were nearly upon the now screaming child. She then ran out of the house only to meet a terrible sight. Cockroaches were everywhere, on the trees, on the ground, in the garden snacking and partying on her vegetables, on the sides of the house gamboling towards the roof, dropping off and laughing as they fell. The noise was as bad as the view. Now you may not think that cockroaches make much sound unlike their distant cousins the cicadas, but here you would be wrong. Millions of cockroaches invading and throwing a gigantic fete make considerable noise. They munch loudly, not having learned good table manners, as they chew with their mouths open. They giggle and laugh. Imagine the horrific sounds of millions of snickering insects. In addition, when they laugh they roll on their backs causing their exoskeletons to creak. Mary was overwhelmed. Where was her husband Jim? What could she, a frail and helpless member of the weaker sex, do on her own? Belatedly she remembered her other child Hannibal. She even worried about his well-being. He was still a small boy of four, or was it five? She was not certain, but she speculated that this many cockroaches could smother such a small child if they chose to gang up and do so. She pondered on this

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whilst jumping to shake off the roaches crawling up her legs. She held her baby, Mariah, in her left arm and raised her right hand over her eyes to spy out onto the distance, which is quite a trick to do while you are pretending to be a kangaroo. As far as she could see, all was a black wriggling mass. Oh, where was her son? Where was her strong Jonas? Did not he know she needed him for protection? Mary ran forward crunching on the invaders. She saw a faint form in the distance bravely battling the millions of creepies with a shovel. Up he raised his weapon. Down it came crashing on the black mass, repeatedly. Oh, her Jordan was a hero. She watched him enthralled as she held her daughter Marla and hopped like a demented bunny rabbit. Her hare-like behavior caught his attention, and soon he was thrashing his way towards her. “Mary, are you and the children safe?” “Oh, Jake, Mirabelle and I are safe, but I have so far been unable to find our cherub-like son Hannibal. Oh, whatever shall we do?” She looked at the shovel covered with mashed up roach bodies. “Oh my darling, I think I am going to be sick. Or perhaps I shall simply faint.” “Mary, do not faint, my love. If you do so, the dastardly creatures will cover your fair form, and crush you into a mere shadow of your current self. My dear, be strong.” “Oh Jason, I shall try my best for your sake and that of our innocent children.” Throughout this heartbreaking exchange, the waves of black cockroaches forced the unhappy couple to continue their unseemly hopping. This greatly amused the evil insects. They cackled loudly. They munched happily on the corn crop surrounding them. They drank all the water out of the well, knowing this would leave the settlers with no means of survival in the coming year. Oh, the foul beings! Jackson took Mary by the hand and dragged her after him, clearing a route through the writhing black mass with his trusty shovel. He struggled towards the barn pulling Mary, who was fainting from alarm and a real dead weight, along. Inside he threw her over his shoulder and climbed the ladder to the loft. He put her down and collapsed panting. He wiped his sweaty brow. Mary, with incredible timing, came to. Her eyelids blinked weakly, her pouting heart shaped mouth barely opened and a gentle sigh escaped. Jesse, still gasping for air, gave no response. Mary’s eyes opened a tad wider and she looked sideways at her beloved husband. She sighed louder and sat up delicately. She draped her hand on her brow.

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“Oh my darling, brave, strong Julius, you have rescued me from a terrible fate.” Julius gasped repeatedly, leaned back, and managed an inaudible ‘uh.’ She was about to continue on her interesting theme, when she looked around and noticed something amiss. “My dearest, where is our little Maz?” Jerome gasped a few more times and swallowed. “You dropped her,” he replied bluntly, “last I saw she was making a beeline for the Curry’s place.” “Oh what will become of her?” “I wouldn’t worry too much, my sweet. You know how single-minded she is when she decides to visit her ‘Jeddy.’ She was tromping on those roaches and making mincemeat of them to clear the path.” He smiled proudly. “She had them on the run, she did. You know if we can’t get them under control by tomorrow maybe we should retrieve her and send her out to the Curry’s again.” “That is a thought,” mused Mary. She cupped her chin with her hand and closed her eyes. “We could do that repeatedly until we scared all the cockroaches off. It might work…” “Mamma, Papa, found cat.” And indeed, with this announcement the head of a Calico cat appeared over the last rung of the ladder. The cat protruded forward, head, forepaws, belly, hind paws, the rear end with its tail dragging, and Margarita followed. She shoved the cat forward and it bumped into Mary. It gave a loud snarl and displayed its fangs with its lips pulled back. It retreated from Mary and changed course. Soon it was rubbing its head against Jose’s legs, purring loudly. “Come to Mamma Marilyn. Yes, we are so pleased you found the cat,” Mary said in a voice that indicated that she was anything but pleased on seeing the furry feline. “Now, Mary, I do not see why you dislike this cat so. She’s a friendly and affectionate creature.” He stroked her chin. The purring cranked up a decibel or two. “Well my dearest, you may say so, but I feel that here is something not quite right about that cat.” Mary watched with ill-disguised distaste. The cat glanced over to Mary and narrowed its eyes. It turned back, and continued rubbing Jerry’s legs. He gave it a pat on the back. It rubbed against him some more and began to drool. The cat’s pupils enlarged and it appeared to be mesmerized.

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“Her affection for you is…, I hesitate to say… my darling, it is indecent.” “Indecent?” He let out a peel of laughter. “If I did not know you better my plum I would assume you were jealous.” Mary compressed her lips but before she could speak, young Hannibal entered the loft followed by Jedidiah. “It sure is scary out there,” the nine-year old said. “Sure is,” repeated Jed. Mary blinked her eyes a few times. Hannibal was larger than she remembered. “There’s millions of bugs out there. We squashed as many as we could but they kept coming.” “We squashed lots of ‘em,” added Jed raising his feet and displaying the bottoms of his boots proudly. Mary gagged. “Guess we’re safe here,” Hannibal observed. “They don’t seem to be coming up here. I wonder why?” His father opened his mouth and then closed it. He did not know why the cockroaches were not climbing into the loft either. Since the actual reason is due to the insects’ complex biology, and is an incredibly dry subject, addressing it would only impede the storyline. JJJJ The huddled Heyes family, and Jed, slept little that night. Strange and frightening sounds punctuated the darkness. They heard crackling as if the cockroaches were walking over each other. The tiny villainous creatures emitted laughter along with snickering and occasional guffaws, as well as some drunken singing. Then a small: Pop! They heard more laughter, snickers and sniggering sounds. Pop! Pop! The singing stopped. Pop! Pop! Pop!

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A little less laughter, scrambling sounds Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! The laughter stopped. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! The noise grew and grew. The huddled Heyes family, and Jed, put there hands over their ears in failed attempts to block the sound out. The pops were incessant now, pop upon pop. The sound was deafening. It continued from 2:12 AM until dawn with no cessation. Then there was silence. Josephus stood, and warily climbed down the ladder followed by the rest of the family. He waved his wife and children behind him with his right arm and held it in front of them protectively as he raised the wooden latch to the barn door with his left hand and slowly opened it. He peered around the door. All was still so he opened it further and walked out with the family behind him. His feet crunched on the ground. Everywhere, as far as the eye could see, were the exploded bodies of dead cockroaches. He scratched his head. “I guess they overate.” He went back into the barn and brought out some rakes. He and the boys started in. “Wow, I ain’t never raked cockroaches before,” said Jed, who was excited by the dramatic carnage. “Me neither,” said Hannibal. “Hey, I bet I can rake more’n you can. I’m gonna have the biggest mountain of roaches in Kansas.” Mary clipped her son’s ear. “What have I told you before about gambling?” She put her hands on her waist, sighed, picked up Maybelline, and grimly walked towards the house to begin a long day of housecleaning. “You boys will get your fill of sweeping those bugs today,” she added. “Not us, this is gonna be fun,” answered Hannibal who, realizing he was lagging behind Jed, quickly raked more insects. However, Mary soon proved sadly correct. Because of this day’s labor, Hannibal Heyes and Jedidiah Curry vowed never to perform backbreaking physical work again.

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“I suppose that’s the moral of this story if there is one,” remarked O’Gursey.

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