Tombstone is a memorable movie. Historically speaking, it is a terrific story, but there were some parts which did not make it Oscar Narcissistic worthy. Because of my family’s current dilemma, I have been experiencing scenes lately that only Wyatt Earp and my friend Jon would appreciate. I don’t have to kill cowboys, but I do have to kill ants. My wife and I hate killing anything, but we have ourselves here a natural ant infestation catastrophe.
In the last few years, because of my wife’s compassion, I have saved many spiders from instant demise. She wishes everything to live in peace, even though they may kill us while we sleep. I convinced her in rather dramatic fashion that ants should be an exception to our rule of not killing anything. These ants taking over our house wear red sashes, much like the “cowboys” in Tombstone. That’s where you could recognize the good dudes from the bad dudes in the movie. Stealing cat food, dog food, dancing around the pantry like gremlins eating saltine crackers, I had to put a stop to the ant madness. That’s when I told her the news. “Britt, any ant I see wearing a red sash, I am going to kill it, and tell that queen ant that HELL IS COMING WITH ME!!!!”
I carry a holster full of bug spray and a thumb. They are my weapons of pest destruction. The thumb is for the quick kills and the spray is to send them a message the exterminator we hired wasn’t able to deliver for three hundred dollars. (He was a mangy cur I’d like to wrangle to the ground like any other marauder around this territory)
My only true companion in this God awful insect mess is our cat, also known as Cat Holliday. He wipes out the big ants when I just don’t maintain the quickness and proper eyesight to see them in his food. My ultimate worry though, is Cat Holliday is suffering from narcolepsy so I may have to finish this on my own.
God help us.