I suspect Gill is re-thinking her plans to visit us this summer.The way things are going, I can’t say I blame her. And although she loves her brother dearly, his actions give her another reason to shake her head and question Crazy D’s life decisions. Although those decisions provide us with more bizarre and hilarious writing material than anyone could reasonably expect in a lifetime, there are a few issues.
When Crazy D returned from his latest round-the-world adventure, he brought back a few unwanted guests. Readers may remember that in the past year he has been to Japan, Africa, the U.S., and around the world working on The Amazing Race. The show hasn’t aired yet in its entirety so I still don’t know where he was. Suffice it to say, he has visited some third world countries and is currently in Manila on his way to Kenya. He has occasionally been brought low during these escapades –with the plethora of insects, rodents, wild animals and diseases (only some of which have a pharmaceutical fix) it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. He awoke one morning to find he was sharing his bed with ‘The Invader From We Know Not Where’.
Panic ensued! Mr. Google and all his busy minions provided us with preliminary research into the life, habits, and danger of The Invader. Then the Big Guns were called in. The lovely lady from Bug Central came on a reconnaissance mission. The news was not good. Crazy D’s room needed treatment. Everything in it. While I, in terrified mode, opted to torch the lot for the insurance money and start over. The house looks a bit long in the tooth anyway. But, deciding that it would look suspicious, we decided on the more pedestrian approach.
The Bug Lady was very helpful and not in any way alarmist. She assured us all was likely contained in the one room (although the entire house would have to be sterilized and treated). My warped mind wondered, “Where is Napalm when you need it?” She also opined that it would be best to take Crazy D’s mattress, and box spring (his horribly expensive and new bed) on a fast ride to the dump.This would make eradication quick and sure.
Before you could say Jack Sparrow, he had both large pieces strapped on top of his CRV. He took off at top speed, mattress flapping in the breeze, a grim expression on his face. I wondered if the neighbours, watching this, thought I’d finally had enough and booted him out of the house. But I suspect they were disabused of this notion when The Bug Truck appeared in our driveway.
As I opened the door to The Terminator, I blurted out, “Tell me your truck doesn’t have a picture of a huge beetle on it!” This was a classic ‘What will the neighbors say?’ moment if there ever was one.
“Don’t worry,” she said in a soothing voice. “I always tell customers to say they’ve had an ant infestation.” Which is precisely the line I used when Nosy Neighbour #1did indeed ask about the truck.
“Oh, everyone has ants this year,” she commiserated. “They are really bad for some reason…must be the weather. Are they coming IN your house or just outside?”
“Uh, yes… way inside.”
“How long have you had them? What chemical are they using? How long will it take? What’s the cost? Maybe I should speak to the guys when they’re at your place.”
I did not like the turn this conversation was taking. I had to head her off at the pass. I quickly muttered something about this company being VERY expensive and The Pig (I said this while looking directly at HER dog) couldn’t be in the house for days, it was all extremely toxic, and it was going to get ugly when all the dying ants limped out to the front sidewalk to go through their final dead throes. Anything to get rid of The Nosy One. It worked. She scooped up her little dog, gave him an extra tight squeeze and clutched him close to her chest as she ran down the sidewalk to the safety of her own home.
So Crazy D and his stuff were fumigated…just in time for him to catch the plane for yet another round of Find The Bug, Catch The Ebola Virus, or Fall Off a Cliff. I have to say, it’s hard on a mother. And the worst part is that this next job is paying for the sins of the last one. Poor guy. One step forward, two back. But he always has great stories.
So, I hope Gill will still feel up to a visit. Her reaction, when I informed her that Crazy D would be the one doing the airport run to pick her up, was subdued. “Really? That’s my only option? Shall I spray him down when we get in the car just to make sure?”
To which I retorted, “Now that’s just cruel. A valid option but cruel.”