The Hornet's Minions

When the real estate agent was telling us about our house she left out a few details. Her pitch should have been more along the lines of, “Excellent location, great square footage to dollar ratio, The Hotel Marriott for insects…” Apparently we live the French Quarter of the ant kingdom.

They have been popping up for a couple months now, seemingly coming in by waves. We’ll go a week without seeing anything then wake up one morning and it’s like the dining room floor is the beaches of Normandy. They have me beat in number but I got them in sheer size and modern technology.

I personally think the hornet I mentioned yesterday has been sending them out as scouts. He’s using them to gather intelligence on any defensive schemes I may be conjuring up. I was hopeful that my encounter with the man in charge this past weekend and his complete pansified actions would cause the ants to lose faith in him as a leader and weaken their attack. However, they’ve proven to be much more resilient than I had originally anticipated.

My first line of defense was the Hoover Windtunnel 2 Bagless Upright. It took hundreds out with a single flip of a switch. I thought it had to be a demoralizing moment for them. If it was, they didn’t show it, they just kept coming. I think it may have even become a rallying point for them. This morning as I flicked one ant off of the counter I heard him squeal, “Remember the Hoover!” They keep pouring out like the droid army in Star Wars: Attack of the Clones and I finally realized that the high-powered suction device approach was merely a “band-aid.” I needed to be thinking more long term.

I dove head first into full-fledged chemical warfare. I strategically placed a few Raid Max Ant Baits in the areas they generally commune to hang out, party, and do whatever soldiers enjoy doing when they’re not out in the field. Supposedly, they’ll think the poison is food, take it back to their bunkers, and share the cyanide with their fellow soldiers destroying their camp from the inside out.

With the interior now accounted for, I turned my defenses to the exterior. I scouted the backyard looking for any signs of ant activity. They camouflage well. There were no ant mounds to be found, so I got creative and engineered an ant booby-trap. I poured some poison into a pile and baited it with delicious treats that these scavengers couldn’t possibly pass up. They’ll think they see a fluffy piece of angel food cake that is theirs for the taking, but as they crawl to get it, their feet will melt off. Devious, right? Very Spy vs. Spy.

Now, it’s just a waiting game.

LB wants me to give in and call an exterminator, but I see that as a sign of defeat. I’m not the type to wave the white flag this early in the game. No doubt that flying demon mastermind is tucked away in a dimly lit hideout somewhere, pulling the strings to these ant ambushes trying to lure me outside with my defenses down. Not on my watch, winged spawn of Lucifer, not on my watch. You will be mine.