Orkin Blows

You know those commercials where a giant bug comes to someone's house and asks to use the phone because their car broke down, only to be chased away by the Orkin man, hard hat and all? I have some news for you.

Those are bullshit.

Orkin seems to be as effective as the justice system in L.A. county. Ever since we have started using Orkin, the bug population INSIDE my house has, at the very least, quintupled. I actually now have bugs inside that I never had before. I never had a centipede problem in my living room. Now I am sharing my couch. Food is missing. I am finding piles of perfectly rolled dung balls next to my end tables. The ants are taking baths in the shit the spray around the foundation. I swear, I think its just half and half, with a little sucrose, and larvae from the next generation of arachnid. It seems like guests for the earwig family reunion keep arriving, daily, in most rooms of the house. It's disturbing. I have called every pet store in the Tri-Cities area and no one carries anteaters. Lame. Exotic pet store my ass.

I have called Orkin and the gentleman that did such a great job the 5th time, came out to survey the problem and see how he could help. I advised him that him leaving and sending someone else would be a good start. I found out that he was the Orkin man that was assigned to my residence. Awesome. I asked where his hard hat was because he was going to need it. "Why," he asked. Well, there is a good chance that I am going to beat you to within an inch of your life with your gallon jug of worthless and put the spray nozzle....somewhere else. No hard hat. He asked me where the problem areas were. I asked him to point towards the ground. He looked down. I said again, extend your arm, extend your forefinger and point towards a fictitious spot a couple feet in front of him and then parade around the entire house, inside and out and those are my problem areas. He looked confused. I made it simple.

I went to the backyard and lifted the dog's water dish on the patio, and earwigs went scurrying for cover. He sprayed them with sugar water. I pointed to the ant trail leading from the bathroom wall to the front of the tub. He dropped some breadcrumbs and left an apple core. I asked him what the little bugs were that were scurrying away from us as I lifted my doormat up. He said he didn't know but this should help. Honey. "That should do the trick."

I envisioned some guy coming out that gave a shit that I can't sleep when I feel little legs scurrying across my body in the dark. I hate it when its movie night for the bugs in my house and I can hear applause. I don't like seeing earwigs....ever, let alone running across my keyboard when I am writing in this blog andkkfweofkvsasaklfjsdhshasxzdxzdxszdxzdszdsxz....DAMMIT! My kids can't sleep because of spiders, spiders I won't kill because when I DO kill it, I think of it being the heir to the throne, the only son, whom I have made into a one dimensional spot of goop, only to be discovered by some inferior insect and, to be spared further fear, informs the king that I have just ended the family tree. Then, the master spider, leader of millions, sends out his minions in a fit of rage, with instructions to bring me back alive so that I could be dealt with in the only way spiders know how to deal with humans. To haunt my slumber. Never heard, just seen, scurrying to the most impossible location ever, avoiding capture and death.

I hate you Orkin man.