April 05, 2009
Originally published November 17, 2003
I like living in Effingham County, Georgia, but I have to admit to one drawback about this place. We have more goddam ants and flies per square inch than any other place I've ever seen. I killed 26 flies in my house this weekend.
What is it with those dumbfuck flies? They've got an entire county full of dog turds, cow-flop, dead amadillos, other assorted road kill, garbage cans, Dempsey Dumpsters and everything else a fly could possible crave. It's all OUTSIDE. Why do they insist on flying INTO my house every time I open the door?
Once they're in, they want OUT again. They start banging and buzzing against the French door windows in my kitchen and I kill them with a Wal-Mart fly swatter. Every time I scoop up one of those dead bodies, I ask, "Why didn't you stay your stupid ass OUTSIDE? You could be laying 15,000 eggs in a dead deer rotting by side of the road now right if you hadn't flown in through my front door. But NOOOOO! You had to be the uninvited guest at the Crackerbox. Now, you're DEAD! I hope you had a good time while it lasted."
I keep the ant population at a minimum by applying liberal doses of Durstban and Diazanon (I bought a 50-pound bag of each after they were banned) to any mounds I see in the yard and I keep a Circle Of Death around the house. I'll have to find something else to use when those bags goes empty, and I'm running low now. If I don't put SOMETHING out there to keep the ants at bay, they'll overrun me. They are implacable little shits.
Flies and ants. I know that they both have their places in Mother Nature's grand design, but I hate 'em both. I kill all of 'em that I can.
And Effingham County has more than its fair share of both.
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