"The Fine Print", by M. H. Schrader
CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE BUG KIND
Fred the Bug Man stopped by the other day. You see, he’s doing his job too well, so he had to come by to do it a little more.
For the past several months, we have been having a really bad bug problem in the girls’ room. No, it’s not because Mrs. Schrader is a bad housekeeper. No, the kids do not eat in their bedroom. (Another old Mom myth shot to pieces!) Why this sudden invasion of crawly critters, you may (or may not) ask?
Quite frankly, I’m clueless. Even more so than my normal cluelessness. Yes, it is possible. Rare, but possible. But I digress.
I have several theories about my new pets. First, it has been dry. Awfully dry. So dry that I no longer have much of a yard. Sure, there’s some dead brown stuff out there that I think used to be grass, but, quite frankly, it has bee so long since I’ve had real honest-to-goodness grass that I would merely be speculating to say definitively that it was. Of course, the lack of ground cover has made it quite easy for the dogs to, well, be dogs. Let’s just say that my yard looks like a mine field. Or Swiss Cheese. Even better yet, O.J. Simpson’s alibi.
I figure these bugs have gotten so thirsty that have migrated inside to have a drink.
The second theory that I have as to why there have been so many bugs in the house this year is that it has been unseasonably hot for this time of year. I have been patiently waiting for the cool down. It seems to be really slow in coming. Perhaps it’s El Nino. Perhaps it’s global warming. Perhaps it’s the greenhouse effect. All I know is it has been rather warm so far this autumn. And rather humid, too. (Although the air does not seem inclined to release its moisture.)
So I figure that perhaps, just perhaps, the bugs have gotten a little too hot and have decided to migrate inside to cool down a spell.
A third bug theory that I have been espousing, and the one that seems to be the most plausible, if, of course, you are willing to make several gargantuan leaps of faith, is the bug asylum theory. After all, the girls’ room is the closest to the back yard, where the dogs are.
(Now follow me here, because you may get lost in the cobwebs of the remainder of my mind. You know, they say a mind is a terrible thing to waste; what if you don’t have one? Just one of those periodic parenthetical musing that I have every once in a blue moon. Or is that green? No, that’s green cheese.)
Anyway, the bugs are tired of being harassed by the dogs, so they have sought asylum in the first sanctuary that they could find: the girls’ room. Now how long they have to wait to get their green cards, if they ever do, I do not know. Perhaps the bug governor detains the refugees in a bug version of Fort Chaffee, somewhere in the walls. Like I said--leap of faith. A big one.
Anyhoo, after Fred had thoroughly sprayed the girls’ room, the bugs decided to migrate elsewhere, as their home was rendered uninhabitable. I have visions in my head of a sort of bug “Grapes of Wrath”, with bugs loading up Grampa, Gramma, Mom, Dad, Sister Rose, and little baby Cindy Lou into dilapidated bug vehicles and moving to the promised land, in this case, the front bathroom. Which is why Fred was called back. Them migrant bugs are the worst kind, you know; they just don’t have any roots. Always moving from place to place.
Mrs. Schrader told Fred about the bugs in the bathroom. Of course, what I heard her say was that the roaches were lounging in the bathroom. Oh, my gosh! Not only bugs, but the dredge of bugs! I got this mental image of roaches standing around, drinking beer, smoking, playing pool, getting into fistfights.
Hey, it could happen. Or, maybe I was standing just a little bit too close to Fred and his chemicals when he was spraying.