Not a dancing slave of King Cicada

King Cicada pulled at the chains, drawing his slaves out towards him. It was disgusting, that much is safe to say, it was disgusting objectively, you’ll see, few if any would disagree and of those who would or could, hypothetically, I am incapable even of imagining.

King Cicada wasn’t a cicada. That’s not the way it worked. He was not just a giant version of the common ubiquitous bug yet he had the carapace – car-a-pace, yes, I’m on the right track for a change – and the bulbous eyes and therefore “Cicada.”

King Cicada and his cadre of sickly human dancing slaves.

The lightbulb, which I see I have not previously taken the time to mention, o it can be summed up quickly enough, it is true, swung from the peaked attic roof – there I’ve done it or nearly – casting its light intermittently on King Cicada and the others despicable enough to be present. It could have been any old dusty attic, yours perhaps, except no, it was this one.

The Grub of Earl, whose horrible name originated only God knows where, bid on a software designer from somewhere, Andover, I believe. King Cicada outbid him. Again. I hoped the software designer could dance, for his sake, for though I did not know him, I had a soft spot for humanity, I could not help it.

The software designer went for one hundred thousand urts to an emperor with too many wings. (There are three hundred thousand urts in a crrk. I hope that helps.)

The dancer went for a crrk.

The crusty truck driver went for six deodas, a conversion I will not bother to delve into, why bother, I refuse.

The baker they bid on for hours.

Antennae waved and reticulated white skins reticulated out through the swarm. The auctioneers-slash-slave traders, I suppose they were, appeared pleased. They were today a huge success by the standards of auctioneers-slash-slave traders, which are not measured by the moral and success standards of you and me, it is obvious.

The baker went for a deode. At last. Lord Pillbug grabbed him to go. Something I don’t know what in the dark shook in anger, against a break in decorum maybe and it was my turn upon the little stage.

“Up next, we have Harry! Forty-six years old, dependent on a host of medications, chemotherapies, and doctors for mere survival, with full use of one eye and of one arm, he hobbles along with a cane, slurs his words, eats through a stomach tube, and his arms are covered with the residual glue of a thousand bands of medical tape!

“What do I hear for a starting bid on this fine human specimen?”

Crickets.

No, not crickets. Some things giant that chirped but were not, strictly speaking, crickets. Then the chirps were no more.

My cane, a completely superfluous thing if I were to be honest but a thing I’d come to rely on, I nearly said used as a crutch, I switched from my right hand to my left. I tried to stand taller. I’d expected better.

“Just last year, Harry was assessed at four hundred thousand urts. That’s more than a crrk. Just last year. In December. Do I hear ten thousand urts for a starting bid?”

The swarm seemed unimpressed, to me, anyway, I who am nearly completely unfamiliar with how an impressed swarm might appear, but one guesses, one guesses.

“His right arm is close to okay and he’s expected to pass a barium swallow test any day now… Isn’t that great? Do I hear five thousand urts? Do I hear four thousand urts?”

“Hmph, he’ll never be a dancer,” said King Cicada, pulling at his slave chains and rolling his eyes probably, in way of explanation. The Grub of Earl nodded, I believe he did, and others rattled and clicked.

I was eventually passed off to an over-sized unwary waterbug who was not a waterbug, free with five pounds of spoiled cheese.

Perhaps I ought to have felt insulted.

Comments

  1. Well, Harry, sounds like King of Cicada is the boss of all the bidders.

    They won't get you, though. You got what it takes, buddy.

    On a note, every decade or so, cicadas emerged from the ground at our farm and sang nonstop. Sang from trees, bushes, the ground. Oh, how I hated that.

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    1. I remember when we moved to Houston in 1982, there were the cicada skins everywhere. I've never seen so many, so it must have been their year.

      I'm with you on how loud they are! But they look fascinating. So alien-like.

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  2. Don't feel bad, Harry. They couldn't give Trump away even with FIFTY pounds of spoiled cheese.

    I hope you pass the barium swallow test soon! Then you'll be able to eat solid food again, I expect? That will do you good.

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    1. I am sort of eating solid food now, even though I'm not really supposed to. The fact that I haven't choked to death or aspirated or caught pneumonia tells me I'm probably alright.

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  3. Red is here - cheering for you, praying for you and regretful that he did not know what has been going on - all wrapped up in his own little world for several months.

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    1. Hey, Red! I disappeared for a while, too, when it happened. The past few months have been focused on getting better. I feel like I'm just starting to come back around to the blog and my online escapades.

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  4. Don't let it bug you, Harry. *ducks out of the way of projectiles*

    -Doug in Oakland

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    1. Ha!

      Puns are sort of like the Crocs of the world of jokes. Still, I'm an old guy, so I approve.

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  5. My prayers for you and Harry.

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    1. Thank you, Cal. I see you've been in the hospital recently as well.

      I'm doing better. It was a shock, everything that happened, but I'm getting back to where I can live.

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  6. Last December I failed all 3 stages of the swallow test. They wanted to tube me but I resisted ... twice. I had 2 discs fused in my neck last May. It was a bad surgery and it left me aspirating food and drink. For the next year I would get pneumonia about every 6-8 weeks. I went to a speech Therapist and she should me a way to swallow that helped a great deal. I suppose one day soon I’ll sue that doctor but for now I’m focused on putting the 22 lbs I lost back on. Good luck on your test.

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    1. I had no idea. Why didn't I know about your surgery?

      I was way down - 121 pounds at one point - but getting better, slowly. It sounds as though you experienced a lot of the things they warned me could happen, including the aspiration and pneumonia. Glad you found a way to eat what you want. That's important - I know actually eating through my mouth improved my attitude.

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  7. Your wonderful imagination seems to be back in full force Harry. You'll be worth at least ten crrks in a very short time. They forgot to mention your writing when listing your attribudtes or you'd have gone for way more. Good luck with your test....keep on keepin' on.

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    1. It's taking me longer to write these and the writing voice is inconsistent, but I'm getting there.

      So far as the eating goes... I was good and followed orders for a couple months. I'm eating pretty much what I want (almost) now, and I haven't aspirated or drowned yet.

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  8. the pic creeped me out enough to barely make it through the post.

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    1. I assume you mean the pic of the cicada and not the pic of me. Although there have been times these past 3 months when I've looked scary.

      Cicadas are certainly strange-looking. People who don't like bugs to begin with would be excused if they went running from cicadas.

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    2. oh please. the bug. a friend of mine is an entimologist (sp) and I don't loathe being in his lab but don't let his bugs crawl on me either. and btw.....last week he was stung in the eye....................BY A SCORPION! I felt totally vindicated by hating his lab.

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    3. Stung in the eye. Okay, I can handle creepy crawly things, but the idea of being stung in the eye creeps me out.

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  9. You'd think that with all the scientific, and medical discoveries of this century, SOMEONE would have come up with a better solution than that effing TAPE! Through all the tribulations of their illnesses - yes, chemo, radiation, glioblastoma surgery and colon resection, the one thing that caused my mom and dad the most discomfort were those drip tubes and especially the skin ripping tape used to hold them in place. Where are you 3M? When it was her turn, my mom complained less about it than my dad had a couple of years before. She of course would wince at the pain but made few comments on it. I KNOW that shit hurts so I asked her what was her secret to withstanding the pain, major and minor, of all the atrocities being committed against her body. She smiled and said ... "I think of an oyster that's being irritated by a grain of sand and can't do anything about it. The oyster doesn't cry and complain. Instead it turns that irritation into something beautiful, precious and nearly indestructible." Not that I put any credence into horoscopes but I read a couple every day. One today expressed nearly word for word that sentiment; and I thought ... "I wonder if Harry has a new post?".
    You're looking better in every new photo you post, Harry. At LEAST two crrk NOW, for sure. Hang With 'Em!
    beej in CO

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    1. Your mother had a way better attitude than anyone I encountered in the hospital. I try. I try to be patient and kind because no one really wants to be there and things are bad for everyone.

      There are a few things at the hospital that seem to be overdue for an update.

      Those gowns, for starters. The bad rolling poles the medications hang on. The tape is up there on the list, too.

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  10. There's more than one way to dance, King Cicada!
    Tube fed isn't much fun, glad to pick up from the comments that you're back to chewing. I hope the not-waterbug treats you well.

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    1. You're right. My left arm isn't working very well, but I find if I listen to music, even while lying in a hospital bed, I can suddenly start moving my hands around to the music. It's kind of dancing, it' fun, and it shocks the hell out of other people in the room who have accepted the fact that I can't use my left arm. Music helps everything, actually.

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  11. Enjoyed the story, Harry, but I am sorry to hear that it's based on a personal experience. Hope you are feeling better and like your old self sooner than later. On a side note, I spent one summer in Illinois when the cicadas were up and at it. I think it had been about 12 years since their last appearance. Take care.

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    1. Thank you, Mr. Shife. Things are slowly getting better, I think. Still doing chemo every few weeks.

      12-year cicadas. That's a long time to lie dormant or whatever they do. I need to look this stuff up.

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    2. Glad to hear it. Hope you had had a good week.

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    3. So far so good. Getting kind of stir crazy.

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  12. That ridiculous auctioneer will eventually have to eat those words, I just know it! One can do wonders with a nearly (most of the time, at least) walking stick, one eye, and some less than fully functioning extremities. You just wait and see (and dance).

    Also, barium and I have had a battle or three these last couple weeks and the bastard is mostly winning, but... I shan't despair--the time of the swallowing will come, and I will laugh after I'm done (and probably dance, too).

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    1. I hate to be Mr. Positive so much of the time (I mean, it doesn't sound like me), but decent attitude and the need to keep improving seem to make a big difference. I never really considered the possibility that I wouldn't get better, which could come back to bite me when I finally hit a wall.

      I can almost do the things I used to do with my current limitations. I'm not driving yet. I might give it a try sometime.

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  13. I enjoyed every minute of that, although I can't say that I'm happy to hear how much of that is "real life", as I like to refer to it.

    So happy you came by. I'll certainly be back.

    Pearl

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    1. Hi, Pearl., and thanks. I had your blog bookmarked on an old blog page of mine, but somehow it hadn't gotten transferred over. That has been corrected.

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  14. You have me wondering if overgrown insects could be better at selecting the best of us than we are. Wishing you the best.

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    1. Thanks. I'd be willing to give it a try and let a giant insect vote in my place, at least, except if this post is to be believed (and I don't know whether it is trustworthy), they still do slavery.

      I believe that regular-sized ants keep aphids as slaves, too.

      That's a deal breaker for me.

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  15. Sorry, but I just found this - it's not some kind of comment, just something truly weird about cicadas. https://www.sciencealert.com/fungal-hallucinogens-cause-cicadas-to-go-on-sex-binges-after-they-lose-their-genitals

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    1. Fantastic. I could write some good bizarro fiction off of that.

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  16. It won't be long before they're crawling over themselves to have you.

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    1. I am getting better, although I'm not sure I am ever going to be worth as much as I was prior to all of this. I can walk and write. That's gotta be worth something.

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  17. I feel a bit of your strength in your written words. Tired strength
    For sure
    But strength x

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