Death Row

I have a thing about killing. Of course you can’t write horror without being a little bit odd.

I helped a friend today. She has a frog I nicknamed Moses. She’s had Moses for a long time. He’s been alive far longer than most frogs, hence the name. Now my friend is away and I offered to get Moses his food, live crickets. Crickets are small, about half an inch, they’re constantly in motion and if you ask if they’re cute, the answer would be no. The clerk at the pet store got them for me, a few managed to escape and I found myself rooting for them. Still, Moses needs to eat so I took the bag of crickets. As I put them into their death row cell, a piece of me wanted to let them go. Still Moses needs to eat. Not to be a hypocrite, I have to add, that I often, sometimes more than 3 times a day, need to eat. I’m not starving and I’m not a vegetarian, so I eat meat. I even ate a dried and salted cricket once, so I’m not angry at Moses. I’m just glad I have a more varied and much tastier food list.