Crasshopper

Like most places in the Northern Hemisphere, the beginning of September heralded a noticeable drop in the breadth of arthropod life filling the outdoors. The more enterprising members of various species migrated to warmer places, such the inside of the Dominion, any chance they had.

Fernando does his best to remove creepy-crawlies from places that his customer base frequents, but he cannot deport all of them, and it happens that the aforementioned customer base inadvertently provides a convenient means of ingress for these adventuresome invertebrates.

Fernando had just finished helping out a customer and is heading out to put some rental tags back on the floor when he sees a grasshopper in the middle of the aisle. This is one of those ginormous mothers the length of the average human's pointer finger. Fernando looks at it for a few seconds and it pays Fernando no heed.

Fernando retrieves an empty box from his back room. He hopes to herd his uninvited guest inside of it, transport it outdoors, and set it free so that it might consume delicious grass or be consumed by a wandering insectivore. Circle of life, and all that.

The grasshopper has other plans, though. As Fernando's creeping footsteps draw near, it bounds away toward the front of the store. Its leap carries it into a wall with an audible kreck. It falls down and reorients itself, unfazed.

Fernando pursues it. He is quicker this time, and managed to get the grasshopper inside the box. It does not take kindly to Fernando's meddling, though, and jumps out of its freedom haven. It lands in the middle of the next aisle, in the comedy section.

“You are being a right bastard, you know?” Fernando says to the cheeky insect. The grasshopper does not deign to reply.

The third time's the charm. Fernando wrangles it inside the box again and it seems that the grasshopper is content to sit there. Fernando hurries back to the door before it changes its mind.

The grasshopper, having just grown discontented, leaps out of the box again. This time it does not simply fling itself to a random part of the floor. Oh no. This time it jumps directly into Fernando's face. Its spring-powered, tiny mass slams into Fernando's nose and lips and its chitinous exoskeleton audibly packs against Fernando's teeth. It tumbles to the floor as Fernando drops the box, lurches away with his arms flailing, and makes a noise somewhat resembling, “MAGRAFLAGGAIEEEE!”

1d6+1 rounds later, Fernando has regained some of his courage. He carefully skirts around the Grasshopper of Doom, keeping a safe distance, and uses a roll of paper towels to extend his reach and retrieve the box.

He uses it to smack the grasshopper. The blow does not kill it, it doesn't even inflict lasting damage. The grasshopper teeters and reflexively kicks its legs, but it is only stunned and still very much alive. In a few moments it would regain its full faculties and make Fernando's life wretched.

Before this can happen, Fernando scoops it into the box, opens the door, and flings the fell beast out into the parking lot. It somehow rights itself in midair and lands on the asphalt. Its antennae twitch.

Fernando, wanting no part in an altercation he knew he would lose, wisely retreats inside the Dominion. The grasshopper does not follow, and he is safe.