Let God sort 'em out...

So, I was reading a post over at the newly christened I'm Quietly Judging You, about the author's recent battle with a dead mouse. And for some weird reason, I started thinking about the recent spate of problems we've been having with pests at the ole' Meat Factory. For a while, we had mice that were invading the garage, until Audrey (aka Stumbles the three-legged beagle) managed to take one down, and the rest appeared to have died from the poison I left in the garage. But our not-so-new problem is...

Wasps.

Let me just say, before we go any further: fucking ick. We had a problem with them last year, and while I managed to kill the nests, it creeped me the fuck out. And now I just finished doing some research on wasps, and I'm even more creeped out. The thing is, wasps are actually somewhat helpful. They only eat other bugs, and they rarely cause any damage to your house. Their nests are pretty small - the one on my garage is only a little bigger than a golf ball. However, I also learned that their stingers don't have barbs, meaning they can sting repeatedly. And when they sting, they release a pheromone that drives other wasps insane and causes them to attack in a collective psycho-wasp fury.

My wife is probably hiding under the bed after reading that, because she has a serious issue with paralyzing fear of bees/wasps/any sort of flying stinging thing. Not that I blame her, because frankly, that's enough for me too. Any insect that can do that much damage to me and mine has got. to. go.

I have some simple rules regarding wildlife. For the most part, I'm a live and let live kind of guy. Birds who eat my grass seed? So be it. Squirrels? Fine, whatever. Caterpillars, moths, you're free to be. Spiders are fine as long as they stay out of my house. Garter snakes I usually catch and release into the woods behind the house. But anything with a toxic stinger that can go into a poisonous homicidal rage and bring all it's poisonous homicidal cousins? Adios, motherfuckers.

Similarly, whenever we go to Cape Town to visit my folks, they used to have (in their old house) a bit of a scorpion problem. Now, I know that saying "a bit of a scorpion problem" is kind of like saying that the Middle East has "a bit of a philosophical problem" or that in college I had "a bit of a drug & alcohol problem". Because, well... fucking scorpions, right? For a few years, every time we'd go to visit my parents we'd have scorpion encounters. And folks, them fuckers are scary. One time Mrs. TK found one in the shower. In the shower. Where you're basically at your most vulnerable, other than on the toilet. Another time, I was coming out of the shower, walked into the bedroom, and one was in the middle of the floor. It stopped, spun around, and raised it's pincers and tail up and just stood there. It was like a Mexican standoff between a poisonous arachnid and a man in a towel. We caught it in a jar, and just left it there to suffocate to death, then dumped it down the garbage disposal. Because I ain't fucking around with something like that. Especially when it gets into the house. All creatures great and small my ass.

I just realized that Cape Town has some dangerous goddamn wildlife. I've encountered scorpions, venomous snakes, poisonous jellyfish, and baboons. Not to mention that it has one of the most robust populations of Great White Sharks in the world. And to think my parents once tried to persuade me to move back there. I mean, let's compare:

Suburban Massachusetts:




Aaaaand Cape Town:





I can't for the life of me figure out why I haven't moved back.

Anyway. The war on wasps commences this evening. Watch out!