Star in Your Own Vintage '50s Sci-Fi Movie

The last couple of weeks, I've seen increasing numbers of Eastern Lubber Grasshoppers along I-10 between LaPlace and Sorrento in the evenings. They herd up on the shoulder and demonstrate their arrogant intent to cross the deadly lanes filled with onrushing vehicles. I'm not really sure what they expect to attain by crossing - it's nothing but grass and litter, another pair of deadly lanes and more swampy woods on the other side - so they must be driven by some malevolent force.

They are some Ugly suckers, too.

They have a slight advantage over armardillos, opossumii and nutria (and alligators lately) in that the airwash from the carzentrux blows 'em back a few feet and rolls 'em around on the assfault - so they dust off, wogga-wogga-wogga their little buggy heads and try again. Some of them get damaged in this process, but I read they're poisonous so they don't get eaten by much other than maybe fire ants, emetic racoons or suicidal crows, and their little carcasses just sit there.

It is hard to splute them with your front tire, though I managed to gorch quite a few of the massing invaders yesterday evening. I hope I didn't anger their queen - she's the size of an Escalade and spews those buggers out her tailpipe all-day-all-night-Mary-Ann. That's probably why I didn't get pulled over for suspected DWI, sweaving back and forth between targets, because the State Troopers have been captured, and they're all trussed up in her den being tended by her millions of minions.

We'll need a scientific guy with fuzzy white hair and a drop-dead gorgeous daughter to hold a clipboard while lifting her glasses to see how handsome I am as I put her daddy's entomological brilliance into action to defeat the Lubber Queen and save The World.

Note to self - learn how to use a military flamethrower without immolating myself because they're de rigueur at some point in the Defense of Earth against oversized insect invasions.