Little Sadists

That summer, I remember the grasshoppers were so plentiful in our suburban yard that clouds of them flew out of the way of my father’s lawn mower. We caught them and put them in jars with little bits of grass, punching air holes through the lids, but not bothering to feed them. I remember they bled an oozy yellow, when we pulled their legs off. Better yet, in those long hot afternoons of childhood boredom, curiosity and sadism, we offered our hoppers to any mantises we found and watched the praying arms grasp the frantic hopper and bite deep.

Inspired by Baby Bummer (via Beatles = beetles = bugs). Photo by Jon Brierley .