To the spiders of all shapes and sizes, from the black hairy wolf spiders who lurk in dark places to the ballet-inspired gray spiders who hunt in my sink, from the daddy-long-legs to the teeny-tiny-babies;
To the wasps who perch just out of reach and taunt me from the windows when I open the curtains;
To the little beetle-like black bugs who crunch when I stomp them;
To the black flies and blue bottles who are starting to show up with annoying frequency;
Consider yourself warned.
My policy toward all insects and unwanted creatures in my house is simple.
You. Must. Die.
If the Master of the House is home, he will come and he will not spare you, even if you would be a neat display for Aunt Bug or look wonderful as a fair project. If the Master is not home, I will make sufficient noise at a high octave, while assuring the Small People that it’s OK, and I will crush you with whatever large object is closest.
So be warned.
And move out.
God may have created you, but he didn’t create you for MY house. This ecosystem does NOT support bug life.