It was two-thirty in the morning. I had just dragged myself upstairs to go to bed after a long and tiring day of doing absolutely nothing. I was lying on my bed, trying to organise my limbs in a manner that would mean as few springs as possible poked into me. The stereo was on, I was listening to Les Miserables through earphones. And then I heard it.
I didn't really notice it at first, but when a quieter song started playing, it creeped into my conscious. Cheeeerrrpp. Cheeerrrpp. Cheerrrrrrrrrrrrrrpp. I ignored it for as long as I could, but eventually I stiched on my lamp. Over in the corner, perched upon a white hat stand was the evil brown grasshopper of the apocalypse.
He just sat there, smugly staring at me, occasionally scraping his wings against eachother, laughing at my pitiful human need for sleep. I asked him politely to shut the fuck up, then I switched my light off and lay down again.
Cheerrrrrrrrpppp. The little bastard would not shut up. I considered throwing stuff at him, but I was kinda worried he may summon and evil bug army of the night to his aid, and they'd kinda feast on my soul. So I told him to shut the fuck up again.
This continued for around twenty minutes before I started balling up paper at throwing it at him. About five minutes after that, I actually managed to hit him. He just kind of stumbled a bit, and then went back to chirping. Fucker.
I must've managed to get to sleep anyway, because I woke up this afternoon, and thankfully it was gone.

I hate grasshoppers.fnord

one little duck went out one day (at 16:41)