Invasion of the Fire Ants

Courtesy of Microsoft Clip Art

Back in the early days of our marriage, Mike and I were in our first house and had decided instead of having children, we would try out our parenting skills on a puppy.  We figured that if we messed up with a dog he's either retrainable or we'd only have to put up with our "bad parenting" for a finite number of years.  We were trying to potty train our tiny little fur-baby but every time he'd go outside, he'd  get bitten by fire ants.  This was severely thwarting our efforts.  And, because we would go outside with him, we would also become the unlucky recipients of those nasty little bites.

For those of you who've never been introduced to fire ants, they are mean, nasty little ants who are intent upon killing every living thing  and taking over Planet Earth with their giant ant colonies.  Hollywood could make a good scary movie casting these ants as the villains, although the cast and crew would need extra hazard pay because getting a single bite from one will create a scratching, burning frenzy of pain.

Determined to be good "parents" to our fur-baby, we tried every chemical in the home improvement stores to eradicate the dastardly little villains.  We were having no luck.  All they would do is move their mound 3 feet over.  Finally, after our yard had so many mounds it was looking like a low-income housing project, we tried treating the whole yard at once.  Victory!  The ants moved on.......but only next door to the neighbor's house, where they made new friends, hung out and partied together and created an even larger colony.

When the chemicals in our yard lost some of their effectiveness, those partying ants moved back into our yard and brought all of their new mooching friends with them.  There were so many ants going every which way in our yard it was like the toga party scene from the movie "Animal House".

Mike talked with some of his buddies about the best way to rid our yard of these invaders and, using their advice, he decided on a plan of action.  He didn't say much to me about what the plan was except that he found a new "chemical" mixture he was going to try.

One day while I was busy inside the house, Mike implemented his plan, which consisted of thoroughly dousing the biggest mound with gas.  He took great care to get the gas spread all the way to the edge of the mound and then set the gas can a couple of feet away from the mound.  Ever so carefully, he lit the mound on fire.

Through the living room window, the giant flash of the gas igniting caught my eye.  Within seconds the mound was engulfed in flames.  I watched as my husband chortled in glee and danced a little victory jig as the ant mound sparkled like fireworks.  As he celebrated, the fire grew larger, engulfing the entire mound .......... and then he noticed a problem.  When he'd set the gas can down, he'd inadvertently left a trail of gas from the mound to the can.  His chortling and dancing turned to a loud exclamation of fear and a dance of panic as he watched the fire move quickly from the fire ant mound, down the path of gas and hop right into the gas can. 

Without even stopping to think, he picked up the can and flung it with all of his strength toward the concrete culvert behind our house.  As the gas can was flying over the fence and through the air, it exploded in a giant fireball over the culvert.  Thankfully it hadn't exploded when he'd picked it up and nothing caught on fire.  The explosion did bring out all the neighborhood kids as they excitedly asked one another who had the matches.  Mike quickly ducked down before they could see him and turned back to our yard as though nothing had happened.

I stepped into the backyard as Mike grabbed the garden hose to put out the fire that was quickly spreading to the surrounding grass. Trying to think of the right way to ask what he was thinking, which didn't involve the use of words like "idiot", "moron", and "hair-brained", I peered down at the mound.  Hundreds of worker ants were already crawling out of the mound and rebuilding the damage that had been done to their home.  Mike looked up at me and said with a tone of defeat, "Well..... that didn't exactly go as planned.".   I said "Ummm, yeah.....I think you're gonna need a new gas can........ and better pest control advice.".

 

by: Christie Bielss

The Sink Stinks

We bought an older home (built in 1978) back in the mid 1990's which had a few cosmetic issues.  We thought those cosmetic issues were just your typical P/W/C (paint/wallpaper/carpet).  We were in for a bit of a rude awakening.

The first morning we lived in the house, both my husband (Mike) and I had to get up and go to work before dawn.  I was the first one dressed (who says men are the faster dressers?!) and headed into the kitchen.  I flipped on the light and to my great horror, the floor was a solid mass of the most dreaded of all kitchen bugs:  the cockroach.

Being a red-blooded American female, I did what all females do when they encounter such a sight:  I let out a blood-curdling scream and ran for my life!  My husband came at a full run thinking I'd been attacked by the boogie-man.  I jumped in his big protecting arms and was able to squeak out the horror I'd just witnessed: "BUGS!!!!!  They're everywhere!!!".  That big oaf actually started laughing. 

As my nerves calmed down I said "Oh, you think that's funny?  They covered the entire surface of the kitchen floor like a cockroach carpet!".  With a sarcastic "Yeah, ok Mrs. Drama. How many were there?  1 or 2?", and walked into the kitchen.  By the time he reached the doorway, the floor was completely bug free.  They'd all crawled back into the icky gicky void they must've come out from.  I walked to the doorway and could feel them staring at me.  I knew they were there, lurking in their dark, dank hideaway planning their next invasion.

Later that same day we were having a new dishwasher installed.  The installer noted that the cabinet bottom under the kitchen sink was very damp and rotted from where the old dishwasher had leaked for a very long time.  He advised us to replace the sink bottom ASAP.  A little later that day we also had an urgent, same day pest control treatment (I do NOT do bugs).  Since we were pulling out that cabinet bottom, the technician left us some chemicals to treat that area directly.

The next morning I took an extraordinarily long time getting ready so that my husband was first to turn on the kitchen light. He's a 6'1" broad-shouldered, barrel-chested ex-football player.  He's not afraid of any stinkin' bugs.  As he walked into the family room, I peeked around the corner to see his reaction.  He flicked on the kitchen light and jumped back several feet. The bugs were out in full force.  "You're not laughing....." I said as I peeked from behind the safety of my corner.  He watched as the bugs scattered and ran for cover.  He decided right then and there that his first order of business as soon as he got home from work was to rip out that rotten cabinet bottom. 

True to his word, he walked in the door from work and immediately jumped into action.  He laid all of his tools  within arm's reach of the sink area and even had the pest control chemicals primed and ready - just in case there were any bugs that tried to protest this repair.  He gave me the heads up that he was ready and that I might should find a safe spot to perch myself. 

Having a sense of what was going to come out of that cabinet when he started banging around, I grabbed our dog and headed out to the backyard.  I figured with his manly attitude of  "I'm not afraid of any bugs", this had the potential to become quite entertaining.  I positioned myself outside our kitchen's big bay window, which allowed me the perfect sight line to where he was going to be working, and waited for the show to begin. 

My husband started hammering, and the cabinet bottom started disintegrating on the second downward stroke.  He reached into the cabinet and pulled out the first large piece of rotten cabinet bottom.  He held it up for me to see while mouthing "Ewwww!  NASTY!". 

He sat back down in front of the cabinet and with great force, he hit the cabinet bottom again.  And then it happened.  Time literally stood still.  In what seemed like a scene from a horror movie, my husband started to pull that piece of cabinet bottom out only to discover it was the bugs' home..... and they did not like invaders! 

The bugs immediately went on the offensive and launched an all out invasion.  Before he could even take a breath, bugs were everywhere.  Freeze-frame here:  you know in the first "Home Alone" movie where the little boy grabs the tarantula and plops it on the burglar's face and the burglar emits the loudest, most high-pitched scream imaginable?  Hold onto that thought and let's resume.  All of the sudden, those cockroaches were going after him.   

He started frantically slapping and swiping at his legs and feet.  He wasn't making much headway against this coordinated offensive, so he grabbed the hammer and started smashing everything that moved with it.  As he was flailing around his legs and feet, he didn't notice the bugs had started crawling up his arms towards his face!  All of the sudden, he noticed a movement on his arm and discovered the nasty spawns of satan were nearly to his shoulder.  Before I had time to even blink, he emitted the "Home Alone" blood-curdling, completely horrified scream. 

He started hopping around in a complete frenzy trying to free himself from the bugs.  Standing in the backyard, I couldn't contain myself any longer and started laughing hysterically.  The more he jumped around, swatted and screamed, the harder I laughed.  I was laughing so hard I couldn't catch a breath, my legs literally gave way and I fell to the ground.  I couldn't take my eyes off the scene before me and through tears of laughter, I watched as he finally noticed the pest control chemicals.  He grabbed the chemical sprayer and started spraying wildly while screaming "DIE!!!!  DIE!!!!!!!".  Those giant bugs didn't have a chance against that chemical and died on contact. 

After several minutes passed, he regained control of the situation and looked out the bay window for the first time since having to fight against this invasion of thousands of miscreants.  He started to smile at me and give me the thumbs up when he noticed me laying in the grass laughing hysterically.  His smile froze and slowly faded into a pointed frown.  For some reason, he did not see the humor in the situation one tiny bit.  I guess I was lucky that his "thumbs up" didn't flip around and become a "you're #1"........

by: Christie Bielss