Lately, I have had to become good friends with Gryllus. Sure, he has oddities about him: he walks on four legs, he’s about the size of my thumb and he creeps around the crevices of my belongings. However, Gryllus and I share a mutualistic relationship. To be frank, he fears me as I do him.

                According to my research, Gryllus, or cricket in laymen terms, should primarily dwell in Amazonian areas and such. Well, unless Coppell High School has become a tropical oasis, I would venture to say that the scientists are wrong. For within these halls and various locker rooms, an invasion of crickets has emerged.

                Ask anyone and surely they will have noticed. Here at CHS, crickets have almost become a staple in daily student occurrences. For example, it was just the other day that the Lariettes went barreling out of the locker room en route to the field house, only to be faced with the mecca of cricket mating. In essence, the locker room had become CHS’s unofficial insect cest pool. I shudder just at the thought.

                Another sighting occurred at lunch. While engrossed in the havoc of conversation, my whole table froze in suspense. Gryllus was back, only this time, he brought two friends. Now, proceed to envision ten rather emotionally volatile girls’ reactions to this. Needless to say, our appetites were lost as were many parts of our lunch, strung about the table amidst our attempted killing spree.

                Something must be done. No longer can I stand Gryllus’s presence. Let’s just say our relationship has sourced since the birth of his many other family members. I, as well as many other victims of this annoyance, have one sole wish: an exterminator.