An unlikely sidekick
I’ve made an unexpected friend this evening.
It seems a lightning bug has taken up refuge against the cold in my grandfather’s study. I’m not sure how long (Note: While I am not skilled enough in the anatomy of lightning bugs to make a confident determination that the insect was, in fact, a male, but for the sake of this post I am going to make the sexist supposition that the creepy-crawly was of the male persuasion) he has hidden out in here, but I have made multiple sightings of him over the last few days.
There were a few that were up close and personal while I was reading at one of my grandfather’s work desks. Trying not to disturb any of the antiques, I carefully positioned myself so I wouldn’t disturb any of the letter openers, ink jars, or other knick-knacks. I don’t know how many chapters I had read before I noticed the bug land on my arm.
I recognized the bug from earlier, or at least assumed that it was the same insect. I don’t like quashing bugs so I decided to restrain myself and study the lightning bug as he studied me.
You can only observe a bug for so long and despite the fact I let it circle my wrist and shimmy down my arm, I positioned my arm so that it crawled on the desk. He did a half loop and started climbing on me again. Trying not to be disturbed, or accidentally tickled into squishing the bug, I tried to concentrate on my book.
Though my eyes scanned over the first few lines, I found myself thinking about my apparent insect sidekick. While sidekicks have come in many forms, from boy wonder to man’s best friend to faithful winged companions, I realized couldn’t recall anyone claiming to have an insect sidekick.
Ignoring such statistics as population size, which lists insects as one of the most populous forms of life of the planet, it seems most writers – when designing dynamic duos – seem to focus on factors such as size, strength, intelligence, and lack of multifaceted eyes.
Despite the oversight of innumerous authors, I briefly wondered how a match-up would go between a hero and his miniscule partner and their arch nemesis.
Scene: In the dimly lit cave, our hero is blindfolded and tightly shackled to a boulder with an enormous chain. The super-villain, in all his nefarious glory, cackles incessantly as he positions the supersonic-turbo-laser-cannon-off-death (patent pending) at our helpless hero. Though his restraints prevent any movement and he has ceased to test his bounds, the hero’s eyes continue to dart around the room searching for some way to stop the evil doctor’s despicable plans. Hope arrives in a tiny bundle as his faithful little companion, Speck, quietly enters the cage through a hole in the ceiling of the cavern. As long as he hovers slowly, his miniature cape muffles the vibration of his wings. He quickly takes in the scene and knows his mentor has little time left. With his super-hearing, the hero somehow senses his sidekick’s presence and looks in his direction. Even without making eye contact, there is no question in what is communicated. The time for action is now.
(Here we shift views to the darkened perspective of the hero)
“Speck!”
“Buzzzz?”
“Speck, get him!”
“Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!”
Smack!
“Speck! Noooooooooo!”
The hero’s cries for vengeance echo in the underground chamber.
End scene
And that's the reason why one rarely sees insects sharing the spotlight with the main characters. Insects may still be used in subplots in displaying a more substantial (as in more human) character’s hobbies or interests or as a minor plot complication (“Look out everybody, killer bees!”), but for now insects’ impact will be limited.
Of course, try telling that to the lightning bug who keeps landing on my shoulder.
'I_have_sidekick_all_over_the_bottom_of_my_shoe'
