The June Beetle: A Play in Three Acts 

 

Introduction:

 

June Beetles seem to have no sense. They fly willy nilly until they run into things, and then, with the fine, sharp claws on their needle thin forelegs, they grab and hold tight, hoping that nearby is the opposite sex to copulate with. And in so doing, they fill the summer turf with the eggs that become grubs that emerge after three years of constant hunger and slow growth. Turning over one square foot of grass and 3-4 grubs are revealed as well as 3-4 beetles - eating and resting in their tomblike burrows.

Act 1.

 

A June Beetle flies onto the back of a farmer's sweat-soaked neck and grabs hold. The farmer, feeling this sudden pinch, grabs the beetle quickly and rolls it in his fingers, acknowledging it with both sight and touch. He knows them well. He's turned the soil and found them there; the larval grubs gorging themselves on plant roots. His thoughts are for the plants and with closed eyes he can see the entire spidery tapestry of his crops' roots. It is an image etched behind his eyelids through sunshine and study. He knows this earthy, subterranean ecosystem because he has swum in the dirt, breathed the humus. The memory map is a maternal emotion and so, within that one second of emotive thought, he snaps the beetle with his thick fingers and tosses it as a fertilizer to his beloved plants. He smiles.

 

Act 2.

 

She's standing under the lights of her kitchen, mixing dough for tomorrow's bread when the June Beetle, attracted to the lights that halo above her, flies smack into her shoulder-length hair. She's startled and her bones jump within her. She shakes at her hair and then rakes it frantically with her fingers. She spins in circles, chasing her hair, but she can't find it. She can feel it though - something moving there - something that has invaded both her home and her person. Another stroke with her fingers and she feels its hard carapace. Her hands dart from her hair, shaking them, disgusted, making sure nothing has transferred from one wrong place to another. The June Beetle hits the wood floor with a metallic clink and bounces. Her ears point her head towards where it landed and she sees it - the invader is on its back, six legs moving in a wave - groping for something to hold - to correct its upside down world. Finding nothing, it opens its armor, spreads its wings and begins gliding around the room on its back, making tight loops and haphazard turns. In her surprise, she jumps into her heels, but then with determination she marches into the bathroom and returns with a tissue. Carefully, so as not to touch it again, she folds the beetle into the paper and brings it to the toilet where she flushes it down.

 

Act 3.

 

A young child is playing outside in his sandbox. His grandmother sits near him in a lawn chair, gazing up from her book every few seconds to see his angelic head and smiling deeply before looking down again to where her finger has marked her spot on the page. He's making truck noises as he drives the Tonka front-end loader across the sand, making tire print grooves from one end of the sandbox to the other. He uses the plastic bar on the side of the truck to lower the scoop and pick up a load of sand. After the scoop is raised again, he drives it back to the other side of the sandbox where he dumps the load, saying something softly to the imaginary workers.

A June Beetle, feeding in a shrub nearby, unfolds its wings, releases from the twig and accelerates across the lawn. The little boy doesn't see it coming or hear its buzz as it plows the air towards him. 

"Aaaaaahhhh!" he screams, shocked at the sudden pinch on his arm. He leaps onto his feet, sees the big, brown bug and starts flapping like an injured bird to shake it off - screaming all the while: "Get it off me! It's hurting me! Gramma! Help me!"

The June Beetle, with the tiny barbs on its forearms, is clutching onto this roller coaster for dear life.

Grandma, as quick thinking as she is slow and calm moving, stands up and walks over to her grandson.

He whips his arm over to her as fear tears rush to his eyes.

She pulls her head back slightly to take in the scene, extending her hand to support his arm and touching his opposite shoulder with the gentle strength of a grandmother.

He looks into her eyes even as his chin pulls up into his mouth with a sob, but he sees that familiar tinkle of her full body smile and relaxes.

"It's just a little June bug," she says to him. She stoops down and picks up a stick. "Here," she says, "we'll just give him something better to sit on." She puts the stick next to the June Beetle and, with her other hand, nudges it forward until it moves onto the stick.

"See," she says, showing him the stick with the June Beetle on it. "He was probably just as scared as you were. Let's bring him over to the woods where he lives. Do you want to carry it?"

"That's ok gramma. You can." His tears have stopped and he's smiling through the last of them.

"Ok honey. Will you hold your grandma's hand though?"

_____________

1 out of 3 isn't too bad maybe for a June Beetle.

 

Table of Contents