© Cindy Beck, 2008
(Keywords: Cindy Beck, ants, bug, bugs, insects, buggers, beasts, invasion, spray, pesticides, Raid, YourLDSNeighborhood.com)
The evil beasts of summer have returned.
No, I’m not talking about the kids that ring your doorbell just as you climb into bed—and then run, laughing, into the night—I’m talking about the real deal. Bugs.
The other day my husband, Russ, ran into the house shouting, “There’s an ant invasion. Where’s the bug spray?”
I eyed him suspiciously. “You aren’t really going to use toxic poisons on them, are you?”
Russ and I have an ongoing disagreement about the best way to whack little buggers. I like environmentally friendly solutions. He prefers eradicating them in a cloud of pesticides potent enough to kill an ox.
I said, “Remember when you used Raid outside the kitchen—with the window air conditioner cranking full blast? It sucked in the spray and we had to call HAZMAT.”
“Yeah, but the dog hasn’t had fleas ever since.” Russ leaned over and patted my cheeks. “Would you rather use your wonderful method of spraying them with Windex?”
I considered giving a supercilious look, but remembered from past experience that looking down my nose only crossed my eyeballs and made me feel loopy. “I had it on good faith that Windex would kill bugs. It’s not my fault wasps have compound eyes and one saw me coming.”
Russ raised an eyebrow. “If you stand nose to nose with a creature carrying a harpoon in its butt, you shouldn’t be surprised when you get speared in the forehead.”
“Okay, so it didn’t work, but at least it was eco-friendly,” I said, while simultaneously searching my brain for another method. “What about orange peel? The acid is supposedly lethal.”
“You’re going to place bits of orange peel on 90,000 ants?” Russ held the kitchen door open. “Take a look out there.”
We walked over to a living puddle that pulsated along the foundation of the house and across the sidewalk. My mind searched for alternatives. “Recently, I saw an advertisement for a non-polluting, mechanical process for killings bugs. What if we try that?” I said, eyeballing the ants that teemed over my feet.
“Did you read the whole thing?” Russ swatted at his pant legs. “The device was two blocks of wood. The instructions said to place the bug between blocks and press firmly.”
I wasn’t listening. Ants were racing up my ankles, gnawing at my knees and swarming into uncomfortable places. “Quick, Russ, get the bug spray,” I said, prancing about and partially disrobing.
“If you insist—but don't you think we should try something more environmentally friendly first? Maybe you could massage them with garlic,” Russ replied, as he headed for the can of Raid.
What's playing in my head: The Ants Go Marching One by One (Unknown authorship)
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