"There once was a cricket from Germany No

able to sell Kermit crickets for a living. Because the cricket from Germany, yes Jiminy he is, kept eating the marmalade crickets. So my solution, I said, was to chain his ass up.

That's how we do it in Arkansas. I clocked Jiminy Cricket doing 45 in a 40. Pulled the little bug over and walked up. "Get out of the car son," but Jiminy didn't move.

There was a ripping noise & Jiminy Cricket's skin split open. He sloughed off his exoskeleton & flopped across the front seat. "I need to harden, don't arrest me!" He gasped to me

"You don't fool me!" said Constable Plod clicking the handcuffs shut on his molted skin. I didn't correct Plod's error & winked at Jiminy Cricket who still didn't look so chirpy

after rubbing his legs together all night long, or "making sweet music," as Jiminy liked to call it. Constable Plod winked knowingly at him however and yanked at him by the cuffs.

Jiminy's humungous shoes were wedged under the steering wheel and prevented Constable Plod from removing him from the vehicle. He accidentally tore off one of the cricket's antenna

s while trying to pull him out. But by this time, Jiminy Cricket was barely conscious & didn't even feel it. Constable Plod leaned into the wreckage, listening to Jiminy utter his

final words: "Don't tell Pinnochio i was involved in this mafia business." Plod nodded, picking Jiminy Cricket's now-dead body up. He carried him away, humming the song, "

Always Let Your Conscience Be Your Guide." It was an ironic end to a tragic story.