Last night.
Last night I went outside to smoke. My building is on a corner and there's a sidewalk that goes from my building and then splits to hit the parking lots in front and to the side of the building. I perpetually pace when I smoke, so I walk up and down these two sidewalks until I'm done.
Last night as I was pacing I saw something crawling on the sidewalk right at the split. I crouched down and saw something that looked to be a baby caterpillar, probably about two or three inches long. It was fat and bulged at its segments and its skin was shiny and fairly translucent so that I could see its internal workings and it wobbled side to side as if it hadn't quite mastered the art of inching along as caterpillars do. It had tiny little nubs in rows down its back which I imagined one day would be poisonous barbs, if they weren't already. I watched it continue its haphazard trek and then I heard something rustling in the grass near the edge of the sidewalk.
Last night I watched the grass move and heard tiny pops and cracks as something was navigating the terrain. I crouched and smoked and waited until two more caterpillars emerged from the grass and they had the same drunken motions of their sibling. I imagined there must have been a nest somewhere in the grass and then I wondered if caterpillars even had nests. One of them was heading in a straight line for the opposite patch of grass, while the other was generally making its way towards my shoe. As a deterrent I exhaled smoke on it and it tensed up, stopped moving for a few seconds, and then resumed its trek. Not wanting to kick the thing, I held the lit end of the cigarette in front of it and that was enough to change its mind. Then I had an idea.
Last night I took the lit end of my cigarette and touched one of the nubs on that caterpillar's back. It blackened and melted and curled down and the whole animal shuddered and curled up. After a few seconds it uncurled and started trudging along again, as if nothing had happened. I took the cigarette and pushed it down into its back and it recoiled and lifted its front and rear ends and tried to encircle itself. It writhed for a bit and settled back down and started moving again. This time I held the cigarette down until it went out and the caterpillar again writhed and lifted off the ground. Then it settled down for a few seconds and again started moving, two ugly black marks on its translucent back, headed for the edge of the sidewalk behind me.
Last night I thought about the time my brother and I found a frog in our ditch back home. We threw it up in the air and watched it thud onto the black asphalt of the street. Up it would go, a slow spin in the summer sun, and then with a wet smack it would hit the ground. After the first throw it must have been in shock and it didn't try to get away as we grabbed it again. We took turns throwing it high into the cloudless sky until it was dead, because it was a hot, boring summer day, and because we could.
Tonight there are no caterpillars outside.
Last night as I was pacing I saw something crawling on the sidewalk right at the split. I crouched down and saw something that looked to be a baby caterpillar, probably about two or three inches long. It was fat and bulged at its segments and its skin was shiny and fairly translucent so that I could see its internal workings and it wobbled side to side as if it hadn't quite mastered the art of inching along as caterpillars do. It had tiny little nubs in rows down its back which I imagined one day would be poisonous barbs, if they weren't already. I watched it continue its haphazard trek and then I heard something rustling in the grass near the edge of the sidewalk.
Last night I watched the grass move and heard tiny pops and cracks as something was navigating the terrain. I crouched and smoked and waited until two more caterpillars emerged from the grass and they had the same drunken motions of their sibling. I imagined there must have been a nest somewhere in the grass and then I wondered if caterpillars even had nests. One of them was heading in a straight line for the opposite patch of grass, while the other was generally making its way towards my shoe. As a deterrent I exhaled smoke on it and it tensed up, stopped moving for a few seconds, and then resumed its trek. Not wanting to kick the thing, I held the lit end of the cigarette in front of it and that was enough to change its mind. Then I had an idea.
Last night I took the lit end of my cigarette and touched one of the nubs on that caterpillar's back. It blackened and melted and curled down and the whole animal shuddered and curled up. After a few seconds it uncurled and started trudging along again, as if nothing had happened. I took the cigarette and pushed it down into its back and it recoiled and lifted its front and rear ends and tried to encircle itself. It writhed for a bit and settled back down and started moving again. This time I held the cigarette down until it went out and the caterpillar again writhed and lifted off the ground. Then it settled down for a few seconds and again started moving, two ugly black marks on its translucent back, headed for the edge of the sidewalk behind me.
Last night I thought about the time my brother and I found a frog in our ditch back home. We threw it up in the air and watched it thud onto the black asphalt of the street. Up it would go, a slow spin in the summer sun, and then with a wet smack it would hit the ground. After the first throw it must have been in shock and it didn't try to get away as we grabbed it again. We took turns throwing it high into the cloudless sky until it was dead, because it was a hot, boring summer day, and because we could.
Tonight there are no caterpillars outside.