Straight to Plan B
The first thing I do most mornings is revise my ever-growing hate list. Well, not THE first thing. That requires a large tub of yoghurt and a poster of Sarah Michelle Gellar....but I digress. Edging closer and closer to the top of the list is the swarm of insects that have invaded my home of the last six years, the Amethyst.
Now I've tried a variety of methods to kill all the bar flies...I do not mean the regulars. Although it would be awfully tempting to blow the heads off certain recurring nightmares called patrons, ie. the Jesus Freak, guys who don't know how to order a simple drink, chicks who always yammer on before they order and get annoyed when you move away, etc, etc. Frontier-style, shotgun justice would not sit well with the courts and may hinder me from getting another job outside of a war zone.
Where the Hell are the insects coming from? I've tried swatting them, poisoning them, taunting them, joining them. No avail. Every morning there are more and more, sipping Mortein cocktails from their little bug glasses. Screw that.
Plan A (slowly remove annoyance), out of the window, on to Plan B- Kill Everything. "Bernie", the cleaner/ handyman/ electrician, has mentioned an insecticide that makes over-the-counter ones seem like air freshener. ' A friend of mine has about a gallon of it left,' he tells me' but we have to use it quick. It's eating away at the container.' This extremely illegal, black market insecticide is apparently all that remains of when the French did some nuclear testing in the 90's off islands no one could care less about except the bunch of people who lived in that region of the Pacific.
Well my pretties. It's time to enjoy your last days of nesting in the red lanterns at my bar. I won't be at Ground Zero when we detonate the X-bomb myself, Lou will have rigged up some remote operated switch by now. The Countdown begins....
5,4,3,2.....
Fatman
Now I've tried a variety of methods to kill all the bar flies...I do not mean the regulars. Although it would be awfully tempting to blow the heads off certain recurring nightmares called patrons, ie. the Jesus Freak, guys who don't know how to order a simple drink, chicks who always yammer on before they order and get annoyed when you move away, etc, etc. Frontier-style, shotgun justice would not sit well with the courts and may hinder me from getting another job outside of a war zone.
Where the Hell are the insects coming from? I've tried swatting them, poisoning them, taunting them, joining them. No avail. Every morning there are more and more, sipping Mortein cocktails from their little bug glasses. Screw that.
Plan A (slowly remove annoyance), out of the window, on to Plan B- Kill Everything. "Bernie", the cleaner/ handyman/ electrician, has mentioned an insecticide that makes over-the-counter ones seem like air freshener. ' A friend of mine has about a gallon of it left,' he tells me' but we have to use it quick. It's eating away at the container.' This extremely illegal, black market insecticide is apparently all that remains of when the French did some nuclear testing in the 90's off islands no one could care less about except the bunch of people who lived in that region of the Pacific.
Well my pretties. It's time to enjoy your last days of nesting in the red lanterns at my bar. I won't be at Ground Zero when we detonate the X-bomb myself, Lou will have rigged up some remote operated switch by now. The Countdown begins....
5,4,3,2.....
Fatman
posted by Fatman | 3:17 pm
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