Things have gotten a little bit frisky at the shop these couple of days, frisky as in there was too much scratching going around with the boys and stuff. Me being generally in charge with everything there is to mind there, finally made up my mind that this thing has to stop, as it is beginning to get on everybody’s nerves. I’m talking about fleas, and judging from the weird looks I’ve been getting from both customers and crew alike, lots of them.
Let me give you a brief backgrounder about our little problem. Our bait shop is located on a somewhat grassy spot as the lot next to us had been vacant for several years now, and although we are in a commercial district, the back of our shop opens directly to a forest of trees. So in between the not so random stray dog, which always happen to wander around our shop probably because we keep on feeding the poor critters, and the squirrels, raccoons, and other warm blooded visitors in our area, fleas on humans certainly do tend to happen.
So I contacted pest control to help us with our problem and they did come the other day, much to the delight of everyone at the shop, me included. They brought with them several canisters of what looked like very potent pesticides and proceeded to place them on vantage positions around the shop. They were actually misters as they automatically sprayed a fine mist of chemical death around the open spaces in the shop, which also abruptly came down on everything inside the shop, covering everything with a fine coating of pesticide.
We were instructed to never enter the area for about a day as the chemicals were still active during that time and exposure to them was generally not advised. So ever the obedient people that we were, we packed up our things and decided to head to the nearest watering hole, which was unfortunately not too far enough from where we were.
I did not really want to drink that day as I wanted to come straight back home to my already big bellied wife, but these knuckleheads kept ogling me, as one of them had his birthday that day, so I decided as there really was still enough time left, to get one for the road or something like that. But one thing led to another and four hours, too much beer, and a little liver pain later, I found myself dragging my things to our front door.
Thankfully my wife was still sleeping at our room so I decided to sleep a bit on the sofa so that I’ll be a little sober once she wakes up, but it was really not to be. I woke up on the floor with my wife wiping my forehead with a warm cloth as I somehow never reached the sofa which was really my intended destination in the first place. My wife said I was groaning loudly in my sleep which eventually caused her to wake up, and she also said that I kept on saying “fleas” or something that sounded like that. I told her what had transpired that day and thankfully she did not get mad or anything, she only said she understands.