"You don't have to bite my head off."

Y'all know where that expression comes from?

Me either, but I've got a theory. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the praying mantis.

Y'all have seen these things in and around your yards and/or gardens, right. They look like large green and brown sticks only they have wings and big ferocious-looking faces.

If you've seen one of these things up close, like the way they show them on those science/ nature shows, it would scare you to death. It looks like it could chew the door off a Buick.

And it's this creature that makes me shudder for the fate of mankind — and I'm not talking about all humans. I'm talking about MANkind, that is, we men.

We might as well face it gentlemen. We are doomed. We are doomed and women know it. They have long been smarter than we are but they let us think that it's either the other way around or we're on an even keel. "Oh, our marriage is a partnership," the smiling bride will say a couple of weeks after the wedding. And there in the corner is the humble newlywed groom believing that to be true.

Baloney.

The only reason women keep us around is to open jars and kill spiders.

So, see, we're not really all that important.

I believe that as we continue to live and evolve and adjust to our environment that one day human females will become as dominant as the female praying mantis.

And in 5 to 31 percent of mantis cases, the female bites the head off the male once they have mated.

BITES HIS HEAD OFF! Literally.

HE LOSES HIS HEAD!

"Oh," you say, "but that's just 5 to 31 percent of the time."

Well yeah, but still, I don't like those odds.

See, this is the kind of wacky stuff I think about whenever I start watching those nature shows on TV. The "what if" factor kicks in and I start wondering about stuff.

So I sat there and watched this poor old male praying mantis get his head bitten off after being seduced by this particularly attractive female mantis (she was wearing 4- inch heels, a leather skirt and halter top; poor sucker male, he never knew what hit him).

They had just met and he's starting the small talk, you know, "Hey baby, do you come to this cornfield often? What's your sign?" And she's just playing along, waiting for him to get close enough and then, when he thinks they've got a good rapport going, she leans over and he thinks she's going to whisper something sexy and clever in his ear and then suddenly — CRUNCH!

There goes his head.

Poor male praying mantis.

This kind of behavior brings up a number of questions. For example, what does she tell the children when they ask what happened to their father?

But here's the big question — why haven't the male praying mantises caught on yet? You would think that after a few thousand years of this stuff happening, they would finally get wise.

MANTIS HARRY: "I think I'm going to go out tonight to the mantis singles bar and check it out."

MANTIS FRANK: "I don't know if that's such a good idea. I've been hearing about some weird stuff happening down there."

MANTIS HARRY: "Like what?"

MANTIS FRANK: "Well, I know you might not believe this, but I've heard some talk about cult activity — you know — really weird stuff, like cricket sacrifices and spider worship."

MANTIS HARRY: "Oh, come on man. That can't be true. Those have got to be just vicious rumors."

MANTIS HARRY: "OK. Go on and take your chances but I think I'm going to stay home tonight and watch the ball game. Hey look, here comes Mantis Johnny ... HOLY BUCKETS ... he flew right into the side of that barn. Is he OK? He looks kinda different ... OMIGOSH, HIS HEAD IS GONE!"

Mantis Harry and Mantis Frank rush to Mantis Johnny's aid — but it's too late.

Mantis Harry gently cradles Mantis Johnny's twitching body in his arms. Mantis Johnny, in his dying throes, scratches out a crude message on a tiny piece of paper. It reads, "She tricked me. She lured me in with cheap wine and sweet-smelling perfume. They're all in it together ..."

Mantis Harry and Mantis Frank look at each other.

"What should we do," Mantis Harry frantically asks Mantis Frank. "What should we do?"

As if sensing the question despite not having a head, the dying Mantis Johnny scratches out a few more words on the tiny paper.

He scratches out, "Pray. Pray Hard."

And then he dies.

Now, what do you think is going to happen to us once women can open jars and kill spiders without our help?

Klonie Jordan (editor@gaffneyledger.com) is executive editor of The Gaffney Ledger.