The Story of Rupert

I was happily driving in my car yesterday afternoon when I felt a strange tickling sensation upon the back of my hand. I glanced down.
"BLEEARGHuuuuuuurrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" I yelped in shock and alarm. A small green praying mantis was perched upon my hand. I suppressed my first instinct to flail my arm about until it fell off - what had this poor, innocent creature ever done to me except surprise me with its presence? As a way of apologising to the praying mantis for my earlier rude shrieking, I decided to give it a name - Rupert. So now, of course, I had a dilemma as well as an insect on my hands. I was driving along the motorway, so I could not exactly open the window and release Rupert into the wild. Rupert, I decided, must remain for now on my hand, and when we stopped I would find some convenient shrub or tree to be his new home.

This was all good, in theory.

For the first few minutes Rupert looked like he was having fun. Perhaps he enjoyed the sensation of rushing along at what for him must seem incredible speeds. He kept rocking back and forth and rubbing his pincer-like forelegs together in glee.
"Aww," I said, gazing down at him fondly. "Rupert's such a little daredevil. So cwoote!"
Ah, yes. Rupert the Daredevil. Eventually he must have become bored merely sitting upon my hand, for he decided to take his adrenaline rush to the next level. He decided to move.
"Aha! Ahhhaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhehehehe!" I shrieked in near-hysterical laughter. He was unbearably ticklish. He meandered lazily across my hand, sending me into paroxisms of giggles, before taking a brief stroll across my steering wheel.
"Yes, Rupert," I choked, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, "this is a good place for you to remain. Please stay there for the rest of the duration of the journey."
Rupert was a rebel as well as a daredevil. He actually had the temerity to disobey me and crawl back onto my hand and once more I was subjected to his torturous tickling.

At long last he decided to climb onto my sleeve and make an expedition up to my shoulder. I felt like an environmentalist pirate.

But you know how driving is. You become distracted; there's so much to think about. When I reached my destination I looked for Rupert on my shoulder - and then all over my sleeve, on my seat, on the window, heck, I even looked under the seat. He was gone. Vanished. Never to be seen again.

O, Rupert! You brought me joy and laughter, however briefly. I miss you. Please come back to me, or at least flip me a text sometime to let me know if you're okay. I hope that, wherever you are, you are happy and living your life to its greatest potential.