The Bipolar Bum

Backpacking and Bipolar II. Taking Manic Depression on tour.

Travel Journal – Toad Versus Cicada – 10/12/2013

Tonight, dear reader, I will regale you with tales of daring, greed, violence and redemption.  You will learn of a stalwart Cicada, who, having failed to tell us his name, has earned at the very least a capital “C” in this report for his bravery.  Alas, I haven’t the wordsmithing skill to communicate how unusual and immediate the comedy and drama surrounding this noble insect’s invasion was.  Take my word for it, this was fucking hilarious.

 

 

 

 It had been a blisteringly hot day, and weary from the rigorous efforts of shed-lyfe (4 realz) I had retired.  Accompanying me was my ever faithful, feline companion – Poppy.  Poppy was in a ponderous mood, waiting at her usual perch on the back of the couch behind my head and surveying the big-game safari park that is the garden, waiting for night to fall.  The lazy quiet before the murderous storm.

Tonight, however, the rodent council of tropical northern Queensland had mustered its troops and they had clubbed together to hire a mercenary.  A drunken Cicada kamikaze pilot.  Poppy spotted the aggressor before me, and I heard him before my eyes caught up.  Had I an air raid siren, dear reader, I would have been winding it like an Olympic rower.

“TAKE COVER, LADS!!!” – A man, from a war.

The Cicada rattled and slapped from every surface as he careered around the room.  After an incident involving an over friendly and uncoordinated Rhino Beetle the other night, I have developed a first response strategy of shouting insults and running to the opposite side of the room.  This is made somewhat difficult when your enemy can fly, move thrice as fast as you and is moving with such erratic randomness that it makes Ross Noble’s stand up seem structured.

The Cicada settled here and there, allowing for the following shots.

 

 

After I took the last photo I wanted to move him on.  I thrust, parried and delivered a devastating riposte that unnerved the trespasser enough that he flew to the other side of the room.  He did this by doing a loop de loop back and smacking the unsuspecting cat in the face with an audible “THWACK”.  The cat pulled that speechless face that television magicians rely on to fill silent minutes of film.  A look of horrified incredulity and confusion.

 

 

After this, I trapped the Cicada in a jar.  I sadistically contemplated giving him over to the furious moggy but before the power went to my head I decided on a general amnesty as a reward for the sheer bollocks on him.  He was a tough, plucky little bastard.  I had no idea how tough until about thirty minutes later when night drew in.

The clouds were low enough that tonight we found ourselves among them. The light from the kitchen windows cast ghostly shadows across the garden as an eerie mist crept the tiled patio.  We heard a noise that could only be described as a set of maracas being fed through a mincer.  My friend confidently told me that a cat must have gotten hold of a tree frog, or something less intelligent was murdering a cane toad outside the back door.

Further inspection revealed that it was indeed a cane toad, but that the deafening death rattle had issued from none other than the Cicada infiltrator I had spared the life of earlier.  The greedy, fat fucking toad had tried to swallow him, but our Cicada was an S.A.S Cicada, strong as an ox. Between his prodigious girth and tenacious spirit the Cicada had avoided being swallowed whole and was trying to fly away whilst wearing a new toad onesie.  We retrieved him from the toad and hosed him down.  I felt as though the Cicada was on my team after I’d spared him earlier.  I just COULDN’T do a Pontius Pilate on him now.

 

 

Having washed the frog gunk from the Cicada’s wings we helped him limp onto a high table.  Checking his progress later revealed that he had flown the coop.

Cicadas live underground for seven years before digging their way out for a brief but glorious closing ceremony of binge eating and mating.  This lad was the insect equivalent of a British tourist.  Alien to our world, dazed and confused.  He rattled into our home, banging off of every surface and making a LOT of unintelligible noise before striking a local and being ejected from the premises.  Only later to be found covered in vomit having had an fight with another rough local.  I admired his pluck and I hope he enjoys his twilight months as an absolute debauch.

 

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12 comments on “Travel Journal – Toad Versus Cicada – 10/12/2013

  1. Kitt O'Malley
    23/06/2014

    Absolutely hilarious. Thank you for bringing a smile to my face.

    Like

    • drheckleandmrjibe
      23/06/2014

      You’re welcome. Safe to say we were HOWLING with laughter that night. It helped that I was fairly high but really, the whole evening was just one big mass of improbabilities manifesting as slapstick as possible. Haha

      What I’ve not written is that after we showered the cicada off and he ‘flew off’ we were awoken with the same sound of what I presume to be the same cicada being kept prisoner in another toad’s jaws.

      All the best,
      H&J

      Like

      • Kitt O'Malley
        24/06/2014

        Now I’m laughing out loud. Cicadas make quite the ruckus! Competing with a toad — well that’s just karma. Two hilariously loud creatures. Your cicada was HUGE! 10 cm. I had to zoom in to make sure I was reading your scale correctly.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Cal
    23/06/2014

    That was hilarious! As an aussie with family in far north Queensland, I can totally relate to all of the above scenarios, but that sounds TRULY funny and I really enjoyed reading your account of it.

    Like

    • drheckleandmrjibe
      23/06/2014

      Glad you enjoyed Cal. Where are your family based? I’m near Malanda right now but moving up to Hope Vale up in the cape in a few weeks.

      All the best,
      H&J

      Like

      • Cal
        24/06/2014

        My mum was born in Innisfail, outside Gordonvale, outside Cairns. 🙂

        Like

        • drheckleandmrjibe
          24/06/2014

          Ah righto, nice one.

          I’ve not spent much time in Innisfail. Driven through coming from Bubinda once. Met my girlfriend at Gordonvale and we plan to climb Walshe’s Pyramid next summer.

          All the best,
          H&J

          Like

  3. Hilarious! 🙂 I REALLY hate it when the enemy has wings. My speciality is running round in circles flapping my arms and trying not to swear (and appear like I’m not scared but just having a laugh) in front of my children…..and I loved the British tourist line 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    • drheckleandmrjibe
      24/06/2014

      Sadly, the British tourist line is so painfully on the money that I was a little bit ashamed after writing it, haha.

      Thanks for commenting and really glad you enjoyed the post.

      All the best,
      H&J

      Like

  4. transcendbipolar
    24/06/2014

    Well done, Maestro! Even my cat was laughing.

    Like

  5. istralouise
    24/06/2014

    Too funny. Really.. to survive you and the cat and then fend off a frog.. well, almost.. with a little help.. but who doesn’t need a little now and then???

    Like

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