“Now I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds…”
I was awakened recently by a twitchy feeling. Not an itch, not a pain; just a feeling like my skin was crawling. Which, as it turned out, it was. There were ants in my bed. One of them — I could tell this most distinctly — had even gotten inside my boxers and was strolling around inside my buttcrack.
(Yes, that mental image is provided free of charge. You’re welcome.)
Naturally, I removed myself from the bed. With some alacrity. I believe there may have been a certain amount of screaming-like-a-little-girl involved.
I have a particular phobia about ants. Even the fairly benign Argentine and Pharaoh ants we have around here. It all stems from a camping trip I once took as a young man, in which — in my desire to avoid bugs — I strung a hammock from the car bumper to a nearby tree and slept in that. Except that, as it turned out, the tree was host to an entire colony of huge black ants, all of whom ended up in my sleeping bag. And this was a campsite with no showers or electricity; I had to deal with seething masses of black ants swarming over me in the middle of the night and I had to do it by flashlight, which (as any horror movie/game aficionado will tell you) only increases adrenal nature of the experience. I reeked of formic acid for days.
Fortunately, our home — this being civilization and all — is equipped with shower facilities, so after throughly scrubbing every ant from my person (not that it helps; as you know, the ghost-sensation of ants on you will persist for the remainder of the day, or even when writing about it afterward) I emerged to find my wife complaining that the dogs and cat in her bed had been scratching all night.
(Here I should interject that we generally sleep in separate bedrooms; not due to any lack of affection but simply because I snore. And after many many nights of being banished to the couch, it seemed sensible to just go ahead and make a more comfortable Snoring Room for my banishment.)
So we apparently had ants AND fleas. Disgusting. But not particularly surprising. ‘Tis the season, after all. Thus, with skin still twitching, I went immediately to the hardware store for weaponry.
I must say, the insecticide industry certainly does not skimp in the choices of chemical death one is offered on the shelves of Lowe’s. I found myself standing in a cluster of other recently-showered men, all of us with our skin still twitching, examining sprays, foams, granular yard toxins, bug bombs, and concentrates.
I bought them all.
Thus equipped for genocide and with the rest of the family off at their Real Jobs, I set about stripping the beds, throwing everything washable into the wash, shutting the animals outside, hiding any exposed food or cookware, and then spraying, foaming, and bombing every inch of the house. Threw granular insecticide all over the yard. Went up to my office (where the animals were cowering in fear) and gave them all flea treatments, then chased them back outside and bombed the office.
Then we all just sat on the porch, me with my skin twitching and the animals quaking in terror, while we waited for the tiny screams emanating from the house to die down. (I think they put something in the sprays to make you think you are hearing the insects scream and die. If they don’t, they should. I would pay extra for that.)
So now the whole house reeks of pyrethrins and according to the instructions, I have to do the whole thing over again in a week or so. And once more after that. We’ve all probably had our lives shortened by decades.
But it all will have been worth it — if it works.
I hate ants.
— Bob (twitch) out
Bob, I love this story, I really do, but I think I come here each week for your comments. Your stories are hilarious! Keep up the good work.
I second, or third, or twenty-eighth that sentiment!
I very much agree. Found the comic mentioned from another one, LOVE the blogs!
(The comic is good too, though a bit more for “dudes”)
Agreed! I like this comic and the ghosts and stuff should be interesting but I love the blog posts beneath. They’re always funny or interesting.
I live in Sweden, and I snore. I tried various oils, and decongestants. They helped a bit, but not enough. I then got a piece of moulded plastic similar to those used by people who grind their teeth. It pulls the jaw forward, thus tensing the soft palate, and reducing snoring. I share bedroom and bed with my wife … It took some getting used to, to have the thing in my mouth while sleeping, but it works. And no, I don’t work in that business. I’m a translator.
Interesting! I was thinking of getting one of those mouth guards that you boil to soften and then bite into until it cools — I’ll give it a try!
Two Words:
Sleep Apnea
Two more words:
Sleep Study
I’m a bad snorer. You ever get yourself checked for that? Just a thought.
PS I hate ants too.
They actually have recently invented injectable oxygen. Well, in a form your body can use any way. You could inject oxygen before, but that’d just kill you. 😉 It’s not ‘liquid ozone’, that would also kill you, but it’s a really real thing. Now, you’d still need a heartbeat to circulate it, so that’s one thing that keeps this comic from lil’ ol’ reality, but it’s neat.
Yes, they have. From what I can gather it’s a foamy, greasy seltzer of oxygen-impregnated butter. 🙂 But it works, so big ups to them. For the story, I still prefer our blue injection. Initially, I had a more complicated explanation for a time-release fluid that broke down the ozone to usable oxygen, but it just slowed the pace of the scene and Sharma knew Max wouldn’t understand it anyway. As for the heartbeat — well, muscles (unlike the brain) work just fine anaerobically. Of course you still need some circulation; hence the admonition to keep moving, using skeletal muscle contraction to assist blood flow for the three minutes necessary. Kind of like how insects do it. Thanks for joining us!
I love how much thought you put into your storytelling, and how sensible even the fantastical things sound when explained. Well done, sir. 🙂
I have no idea if this will be read by anyone, but hopefully this story helps somebody.
I used to work in a pet shop and one of the things we sold was diatomaceous earth. Diatoms are teeny tiny water creatures with spiny shells. When they die their shells settle to the bottom. These are harvested and ground into a fine powder resembling talcum powder. The food grade stuff is used on farms to treat livestock (mixed into their food) as a parasite preventative.
It’s also useful at home. D.E. dessicates insects. It gets into their exoskeletons and dries them right up. Nasty. But totally toxin free!
It’s great for treating lice and fleas (didn’t seem to work on ants in my kitchen, but maybe I gave up too soon).
I had a customer come in once; he and his wife had bought a house that winter. Unbeknownst to his estate agent, the place had been infested with squirrels prior to a renovation. Come springtime and there were FLEAS EVERYWHERE. Him, her, the kids, the dog, the cat, all freaking out (I can just imagine the phone calls between him and the agent). I told him about D.E., to sift it in the beds, sofas and chairs, under cushions, on the carpets, along the baseboards, into cracks and crannies. “Sweep it around to spread it into a dust cloud and let it settle. Do it in the morning and let it sit all day. Come back and vacuum everything. But change the bags/filters often– the powder is super fine and will wreck your vacuum if you aren’t careful.” I also explained how to work the stuff into the pets’ fur, concentrating on the usual favourite flea areas and leave it in for as long as the pets can stand it and then bathe them with moisturizing pet shampoo, as the D.E. would dry out their skin. And to repeat it twice more according to fleas’ life cycles to make sure eggs and missed adults were taken care of.
He listened very carefully and bought 2 or 3 bags (waaay more than he needed).
Two months later on a busy Saturday morning a customer came in, spotted me and made a beeline. It was completely out of character for such a laid back neighbourhood that I started to quietly freak out a little, he was that intent. “YOU,” he exclaimed, “are my new favourite retail clerk!” “Ummm… Thank you..?” I stammered. I soon realised who he was. “I did everything you said! It was great! I totalled my vacuum doing it, too!” “Oh, no!” I interjected, “I told you to change the bags…” “It was worth it!!” He laughed. I think he wanted to hug me. His wife finished her conversation with one of my co-workers and came over to me as he went to do the shopping. “Sorry about my husband,” she chuckled. “He just wanted to make sure to thank you.” “I’m glad it worked!” I grinned.
That was one of the best days ever. I hope I never forget that day!
Don’t go the expensive “sleep apnea machine” route. I was diagnosed with it, but I read the chart on the test. (I’m smarter than the average bear.)
It suggested an obstruction problem (though that was ruled out by the technician).
My tonsils were HUGE. At almost 3″ long, 3/4″ thick, and 1-1/2″ wide, they’d turned my throat into a straw. I had them removed at age 60 (get it done ~far before that. It was two weeks of agony…) but now there’s no snoring. (From me; hubby’s next.)
I don’t regret it. I had no idea how narrow my throat had gotten. I’d even been having problems breathing.
Get the surgery (and I ~hate surgery… as a rule.)
And man, that’s a lot of chemicals! Water them in, let them dry, then let the pets in the yard. I lived in Georgia for 10 yrs. Fleas suck. Now I’m in Oregon where they’re easier to control.