Still without any access to the Internet, I would have loved to returned the comments on my Men and their Protuberances entry (funnily enough, target audience was for girls!) but even if I had any Internet connection, it still won’t put extra 2 hours in my Saturday as it turned out to be a pretty busy day.
For one thing, the night before, Ayah finally got his wits enough to call in a fireman-guy for advice on how to (finally!) get rid of them stinkin’ bees. For the new readers, let’s look into my trash-box photo one more time.
This was the size of a grapefruit, a month ago. Now it’s the size of a full seasoned watermelon.
Away from the actual event (I was engrossed in a book), nobody had thought to call me when the one-man-team exterminator came and Ridsect-spray the bugs; a big can in each hand. Little brother said that the guy had the finesse of a vandalism artist.
I came down for the proceeding event though. Dead bugs all over the driveway, crushing underfoot, going squish-squish-sqlomp. Even if I had the stomach to check the undersides of my shoes, on a RM$2-dare, I wouldn’t have been able to see the bee-mush due to the lack of real light.
We had to do the bee-gone process at night, to kill them in their sleep, so to speak.
Mak was ballistic; she had been constantly worried about her first and only grandchild being so curious, banging and tugging hard to open the locked trash box. Ayah was as pathetic as sympathic; he had been willing to wait another 6 months before calling a professional bee-farmer.
I’m just there to take pictures.
So we defiled the nest, poisoned the community and stole about a waxful of non aerosol contaminated honey. No sh**. Of course, one mid-50s, bee-supporting genius forgot to properly contained the looted honey and now it’s the back garden ants that had looted and plundered our, er, loot.
I, discoverer of the trash-box bees, for now, have complete and utter disdain for anything dark and creepy (though I do still listen to My Chemical Romance). I have retreated from the Garden Wars into the safety of my sterile bedroom, where there are no insects, baby nephews or any other kind of creeps within sight.
Oh-f***-f***ing-God...! – pardon, no actual disrespect to the Almighty - is that a monkey on my window?!