cynupstateny
Well-known member
thought I'd post it for your amusement!
The cricket went down easy. It was the water bug that wanted me to suffer.
Walking the streets of a few Thai cities I've visited a lot of vendors and eaten a lot of strange food. On several occasions, though, I've noticed a different kind of vendor. I've seen a young man riding a bicycle with a small illuminated cart hanging off it's side, a sort of sidecar of magic and wonderment and fried insects. He doesn't aggressively advertise his wares but simply pedals leisurely along the back alleys and side streets, knowing that he need not approach a potential client; the client will find him. And find him I did.
On this particular night we had decided to meet up with a friend from school who happened to be in the area. We made our way to an open city square, leisurely partaking of the local firewater all the while. Our friend (we'll call him Larry Parsons), well-travelled and worldly though he is, had yet to know the enchanting culinary delights of the formerly jumping, orthopterous Gryllidae I held in a small plastic bag purchased from a vendor an hour before. We took a sip of the moonshine and a bite of our respective crickets and, with little discomfort and actually some enjoyment, we had chalked up another cultural experience.
Several hours later, back at the guest house, I felt somehow unsatisfied. I had bypassed the grubs and maggots with little thought (they're for the amateur, I presumed), but I couldn't quite shake the thought of the massive beast anchoring the little plastic bag. Three inches long if it was a millimeter. Legs like jackhammers, a shell that could stop a bullet. Alex grabbed the camera, I grabbed the bug, and with a quick snap of the jaw I decapitated the bastard.
A bastard it was. Shards of shell like broken glass and the stench of death all over. It was a bitter massacre, but I emerged victorious.
The cricket went down easy. It was the water bug that wanted me to suffer.
Walking the streets of a few Thai cities I've visited a lot of vendors and eaten a lot of strange food. On several occasions, though, I've noticed a different kind of vendor. I've seen a young man riding a bicycle with a small illuminated cart hanging off it's side, a sort of sidecar of magic and wonderment and fried insects. He doesn't aggressively advertise his wares but simply pedals leisurely along the back alleys and side streets, knowing that he need not approach a potential client; the client will find him. And find him I did.
On this particular night we had decided to meet up with a friend from school who happened to be in the area. We made our way to an open city square, leisurely partaking of the local firewater all the while. Our friend (we'll call him Larry Parsons), well-travelled and worldly though he is, had yet to know the enchanting culinary delights of the formerly jumping, orthopterous Gryllidae I held in a small plastic bag purchased from a vendor an hour before. We took a sip of the moonshine and a bite of our respective crickets and, with little discomfort and actually some enjoyment, we had chalked up another cultural experience.
Several hours later, back at the guest house, I felt somehow unsatisfied. I had bypassed the grubs and maggots with little thought (they're for the amateur, I presumed), but I couldn't quite shake the thought of the massive beast anchoring the little plastic bag. Three inches long if it was a millimeter. Legs like jackhammers, a shell that could stop a bullet. Alex grabbed the camera, I grabbed the bug, and with a quick snap of the jaw I decapitated the bastard.
A bastard it was. Shards of shell like broken glass and the stench of death all over. It was a bitter massacre, but I emerged victorious.
