Forgotten Sleep

You know, I would’ve never known you were the Bug Man. Yes, I do see the large insect-type creature made of plastic and metal that sits atop your truck. Of course, I see the canisters of spray, little dials of “poison” and various types of bug traps that fill your back seat. Um hmm, I did notice the name of your company written in orange and green on the side of your vehicle. I can see that you’re trying very hard to look like you’re the Bug Man.

But let me tell you what I don’t see. I don’t see you inspecting my house. I don’t see you bringing out the big guns even though this is the 17th time that I’ve called you to my house for the same problem. I don’t see you spraying the entire footprint of my home. I don’t see you spritzing the perimeter. I don’t see you taking my complaint seriously.

Can you tell me exactly what that tiny little dollop of gel is supposed to do way over there in the corner? Because it’s not anywhere near the problem area, and that doesn’t seem to be enough goo for all the little invaders to share. I know that Jesus fed the 5,000 with five loaves and two fish, but you, sir, are not Jesus. I don’t see this working out.

It’s interesting that you took the time to drive all the way out here just to try and explain to me why you don’t need to actually do anything. If that’s the case, then I don’t think that there’s any need for me to pay you. And, yet, you still have your hand out for that check.

Well, wanna-be Bug Man, I think this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other. I don’t think I can call you anymore. Oh, don’t take it so hard…I have to be honest, it’s not you, it’s me.

I just happen to like a bug-free domicile.