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Operation Intervention: Save Banjo From His Controlling Girlfriend

It is with grievous seriosity that I write this post:  Banjo is in trouble.

Both of you may recall that, earlier this summer, Habibi and I welcomed a new tenant (see "Subletting" and "Refreshingly Maniacal").  Banjo -our resident baby praying mantis- turns out to not be so much of a baby...

You see, I was getting concerned about Banjo's well-being come winter, because that is what good moms do.  So, being this worried about our little guy, I did some research on praying mantiseseseseses.  (Correction:  Habibi did research and I am now taking credit for it.)  What I (he) found is this:  a praying mantis typically lives for about a year.  At the end of its life span, the critter will mate and die.  So what does this mean for us?

Banjo is at the end of his lifespan...

NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Since I last wrote about Banjo, he has grown quite a lot.  He has nearly doubled in size and has sprouted a pair of brownish wings; he blends in much more naturally with the dead flowers in our window box (that I continue to water, of course).  He is no longer the Banjo (and they are no longer the lovely flowers) that you met in that first post.

But I still can't believe that he is a grown up.  He is only a fraction of the size of the praying mantiseseses that we usually see around and remains the smallest one I have ever seen, at least.  Surely a praying mantis that size would not be allowed to vote in mantis elections, you think?  So, it can't be time for him to *ahem* and then die.

However, if he is in fact an adult, then it proves to me that he is a boy...I think.  Because in nature, aren't the boys sometimes smaller than the girls?  It's just like junior high.  He must be a teenager.

Now, I have seen Kung Fu Panda, so I know all about praying mantiseseseseses.  What else is there to know, O Wise Anouchka? you ask.  Um, well only this:  After mating, the female mantis will BITE THE HEAD OFF of the male.  Now, this ain't proverbial.  These are the facts for nature's original hard knocks.

Hence the intervention...

Banjo is convinced that he "needs" to sleep around.  I keep telling him that there will be no one night standS for him; it will all be over after just the one.  There are other girls out there, even ones that won't eat your head.  Maybe you could date a nice grasshopper or something.  You just have to wait until you meet the right one, get to know her and then maybe you'll be ready.  Just make sure you have post-coital protection (like a .9mm under your pillow).  You don't know me!  You don't know my life! he croaks.  (His voice hasn't changed yet.)  Apparently the teenage notion of invincibility runs cross-species.

I can't stop Banjo from flying away and ruining his life.  Shoot, I can't find him half the time among the dead flowers.  I just feel like we've grown apart in these last few days and that he'll fly off into the pincers of the next broad who clicks at him, only to be disappointed.

And headless.

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