To start things off, here's a tragic story from my childhood about a fellow by the name of Phillip.

Phillip was quite small, but had very long spindly legs. He was always very jumpy and excitable (at least that's what I could gather from the fifteen minutes we spent together). He was quite handsome if I do say so myself...

For a grasshopper that is.

Six year old me was in the middle of a lovely picnic with my cousins when Phillip first hopped onto our checkered blanket. The tiny green lad immediately caught our attention, and we quickly scooped him up for closer examination.

After gazing into his eyes for quite some time, we decided to give him a proper name: Phillip.

My older cousin Marion kept two fingers around on of the grasshoppers legs to prevent escape while we 'ooh'ed and 'ah'ed over the insect.

That's when things started to go South.

Phillip must have gotten tired of being in the spotlight, because at that moment, he leaped from Marion's grasp, forgetting to take his leg along with him.

There was a moment of silence before the blanket erupted in high pitched screams. Phillip continued hopping around, if rather lopsidedly. After calming down, my cousins and I fearfully observed our injured friend.

After realizing Phillip wasn't walking properly, we decided to take matters into our own hands, making the only decision logical to 5-8 year olds: the other leg had to go.

We circled up as Marion bravely took a hold of Phillip's other leg and yanked it clean off. Now Phillip was no longer lopsided! We looked on in satisfaction at our good deed as the grasshoppers dragged himself across the picnic blanket by his tiny front arms.

Now all that was left was releasing him back into the wild.

We held a lovely farewell ceremony, gathered around a large bush-- complete with parting speeches and even fake tears (for dramatic effect). Then, with one last swoop, Phillip was tossed into the bush, never to be seen again.

The End.