Let me paint the picture. It was a warm, summer day as I was walking my dog on my lunch break. The sun was shining. I could hear the echo of cicadas ringing through the trees as a light breeze made the trees softly sway from side to side. Every few steps I felt a gentle, cooling mist land on my skin. Looking up above at the clear, blue sky, I briefly wondered what the surprise spritz was before continuing on my merry way, thankful for the mystery water spray for keeping me feeling fresh. This happened many, many times until one day, I discovered it was cicada piss. I was being pissed on by cicadas.
