By Mark S. Price Contributing columnist

Every time a grasshopper crosses my path, I am reminded of the two months I lived alone in a single-wide while teaching a fifth and sixth grade combination class on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

Shortly after moving into my new living quarters, I was caught unawares when the little noisy creatures plagued my humble abode causing me many sleepless nights.

After living with the pastor and his family for several months in the remote fishing village of Wanchese at the southern tip of Roanoke Island, I was excited about my newfound freedom.

I couldn’t wait for the first night of peace and quiet. It was just me and the four walls. The silence was deafening.

Even though there was only one air conditioning window unit to cool the long narrow trailer, there wasn’t much to complain about. I had all the modern conveniences of electric, running water and indoor plumbing.

I even had a washing machine in the bathroom.

I was forced to hang dry my clothes on a line just beyond my front door.

While I didn’t particularly care to have my undergarments hanging by a clothespin for the entire community to see, I soon realized that was the least of my worries.

After I had been living in virtual harmony with my new surroundings for a little more than a week, it all came crashing down with one little chirp in the darkness.

As I lay in bed drifting off into a semi-conscious state, a strange sound awakened me with a start. Thinking it would soon stop, I figured that I’d be off to dreamland in no time flat.

However, it didn’t quite turn out the way I planned.

After several minutes of listening to the incessant noise, I finally realized that it was a grasshopper; but I also discovered that it was not outside as originally thought.

The insect was inside the place I called home.

I knew sleep was not going to come easy until I took care of my unwelcome house guest in short order.

Walking down the long hallway toward the living room, I realized the sound was coming from inside the bathroom. I spied the bright green creature in a hollow crevice next to the shower stall.

With my thinking cap screwed on straight, I decided to get down on my hands and knees and spray some air freshener into the small space to draw out the little bugger.

I know what you’re thinking. Who uses air freshener to kill an insect?

If you don’t have the proper tools at your disposal, you use whatever you can get your hands on to complete the task at hand.

Although the air freshener didn’t do the trick, it did force the six-legged creature out into the open defiantly chirping away.

However, the music soon faded when I swatted the annoying pest with a rolled-up newspaper and quickly deposited it into the porcelain throne before plopping back into bed.

Needless to say, I spent the next several weeks exterminating my tin can of the pesky little creatures. Thinking I had finally solved the problem, I heard the irritating noise once more.

This time the sound, however, was coming from inside my sleeping quarters. I found a grasshopper inside the drawers underneath the built-in wall closet next to the bed.

I quickly removed the wooden compartments to find the source of the sound; but this little bugger was smarter than his less fortunate brother from the bathroom. Try as I might, I had a difficult time taking care of this clever rascal.

After several minutes of missing the mark and stumbling over my own two feet, I finally hit a home run when my typewriter case inadvertently landed on the bug.

I was so tired that I didn’t bother disposing of the remains; so I left it there and went back under the sheets until the morning light.

Having forgotten about the decaying carcass beside my bed, I was cruelly reminded the next evening when its relatives apparently came for the funeral of their dearly departed loved one.

I should have given the creature a proper burial at sea when I had the opportunity.

These nightly episodes really began to take a toll on me. I was becoming very irritable and quick tempered because I was losing precious sleep. Of course, if you ask my family, they would tell you that was my usual disposition.

After disposing of all the members of the wake, I heard a latecomer to the vigil out in the narrow corridor.

I had just about all I was going to take!

If I had a shotgun at that very moment, I think I would have used it to blow those irritating creatures into oblivion.

Fortunately, I finally found the source of the problem. There was a crack near the back door through which they were gaining access into the trailer. I quickly marched into the bathroom and grabbed a wad of toilet paper before cramming it into the small opening.

A D-I-Y project at its best!

Problem eliminated! I was one with the house again.

Nevertheless, I came home from school a week later to find little pellets all over the living room furniture.

I had a conniption fit when I realized the little droppings were a gift from a family of mice that decided to take up residence inside my humble abode.

Grasshoppers are one thing, but I was not about to go around attempting to do away with a mischief of mice; because it would have taken much more than a rolled-up newspaper to do the job.

Knowing that it was time to throw in the towel, I promptly packed my bags and moved out that same day.

So much for my own digs and my newfound freedom.

Mark S. Price is a former city government/county education reporter for The Sampson Independent. He currently resides in Clinton.

Call: T: 910-592-8137 F: 910-592-8756 Address: 109 W. Main St. Clinton, NC 28328