It’s time to take the war, the great battle, to the next level.
Oh, I’ve been fighting it most of my life — this struggle, this great occupation. I have turned plowshares into swords (whatever that means) and raised the flag of war.
It’s my familiar battle cry used when I tackle weeds, my shed or whenever my mother wants me to try something new.
Now it’s for mosquitoes, and I’m waiting on the ultimate weapon. Come on, postman, bring it to my door.
Mosquitoes in Florida come like driving rain. They’re especially bad this time of year because the dollar is weak and bugs from other countries are finding terrific airfare on online travel sites.
They’re swarming in my yard and making life miserable outside.
I’m tired of breathing citronella fumes, which I’m convinced only makes mosquitoes punch drunk. They become a bit more wobbly, ask for a lot of spare change and drool on you as they’re biting. And I’m tired of wearing two layers of clothing and chain mail when I go outside.
So I’ve taken the advice of my neighbor, John, who told me to get a Mosquito Magnet. I was skeptical at first. There have been any number of gimmicks and mosquito-killer products over the years — the mosquito laser, mosquito napalm, mosquito casinos to get them hooked on gambling, bug zappers and moving to the North Pole.
But this new device, which he bought months ago, seems to be working. It’s clearing out his whole yard.
The idea is simple. It’s connected to a propane tank — why, I’m not quite sure, but they are either attracted by the gas, or come thinking there’s going to be a barbecue. (I am under the impression that only small quantities of propane are released, and that my back yard will not become a giant pool of gas waiting for an errant cigarette to level us with a blast.)
Some say mosquitoes come racing toward the machine because it has the same attracting effect as a large, pale man taking a backyard nap in the nude. It’s the equivalent of a human fast food chain.
The scent leads them close to a nozzle that when they get close enough sucks them up and traps them inside.
“Does it use some kind of pesticide to kill them?” I asked my neighbor.
“Oh, no,” he told me. “They just get trapped in there and dehydrate to death.”
“Dehydrate to death?” I said. “How cruel. What an awful, excruciating way to die. So uncivilized. How do I get one?”
The thought of hundreds of mosquitoes stuck in there sweating and gasping for water has me in a tizzy. I can see one now, loosening his tie and asking, “Harry, when they serving drinks around here?”
I’m absolutely giddy.
Oh, I’m not a cruel man. I’ll go out of my way to help a lizard, an earthworm, a spider or even a lowly moth.
But mosquitoes do not elevate the humanity in me.
So I bought a Mosquito Magnet 4000 Defender online and I’m now anxiously waiting to hear the dull rumble of the Postal Service truck pulling up to my house.
When I get it, I’m going to paint big shark jaws on the sides, call it the “House of Death,” and hang a flag above it that says, “Die, suckers, die!” or “For a good time, come on in.”
I’m hoping my troubles with the pests will be over. No more bites on the eyelids, or worse, my tongue. No more waking up the wife with a quick swat to the head when I see a mosquito land there. I did that to the dog once, and she just about ripped my nose clean off.
After the war will come peace in the land, and we shall rejoice and drink iced tea on the front porch.