"ACTUAL SIZE" (No, it's not the actual size, c'mon you don't beleive everything you read on the Internet, do you? But in reality, it is! It's the actual size of the drawing I made several hours ago! So, there!)
Source: copyright RCRumple2012
In The Beginning
In the days of old, untold horrors of infestations tested the bravery of even the most courageous of warriors. As man has advanced through the decades, he learned how to control the pestilence of creepy crawly biting insects. The primary purpose of these mass hoards is, and has always been, to survive and multiply to make mankind suffer for entering the realm of Mother Nature.
As survival of man depends on his intelligence and reasoning ability, it is only now that we’ve become somewhat able to fight back against these swarms of unwelcome intruders. This, is the story of one such battle. A battle that has yet to see an ending. A battle in which many lives will be lost. A battle we can only call...
I’ll kill all you damn fleas if it’s the last thing I do!!!!
Faletame, in anguish. "LOOK WHAT'S SHE DID TO ME! FLEAS!!!"
Source: copyright RCRumple2012
The Discovery
She’s done it to us!
Her previous owner had stated that she had just used a thirty day treatment that should have killed any hopes of the uninvited houseguests no one desires. I believed her. I...am a fool!
I have noticed a scratching taking place on the black one. I thought it to be her simply sharpening her razor sharp claws against her leather like hide. It wasn’t a regular occurrence. Yet, I had noticed.
This morning, in a moment of calm, Faletame walked up to me with tears in his eyes. Since the addition of Gabriela into the household, this is not uncommon. His life has changed traumatically. Fear and frustration seem to be his state.
“Hey, Rich, you got a second?”
“Sure, What’s up?”
“The bitch has given me a disease.”
Now, both of these animals have been through the vet’s planned parenthood program. Kittens are not a possibility. My only fear is that Faletame will try to get even with me for taming his male instincts. I envision waking up one night to see him staring at my crotch, claws in the ready position, saying, “So, you think it’s fun being a eunuch, do you?”Claws slashing downward, I awake to reality.”
“Faletame, she won’t let you get close to her. Besides, even if you did, you couldn’t do anything.”
“Oh, rub it in, rub it in! No, she’s brought fleas in the house. I’ve always stayed inside so I wouldn’t have to mess with them. Now, they're crawling all over me! And, they bite like crazy.”
After he showed me his fur with flea trash in it, I knew what I had to do.
My snake needed a mouse anyway (din-din time, Morris). So, without hesitation I closed down my computer (I’ve learned. It’s the only way to keep Faletame off of it while I’m gone.), put on a regular pair of pants for the first time in a week (I’ve grown to love ever expanding sweat pants.) and headed to the pet store.
From Where The Visit Began
Source: copyright RCRumple2012
From Where The Visit Ended
Source: copyright RCRumple2012
Wally World
Two of my very close friends own the pet store. I got to know them over fifteen years ago, and we’ve remained close ever since. I usually take them a DVD or two I’ve recorded off of cable, and pick up a free mouse. It’s a trade off we both can live with.
“Sorry for the inconvenience. We will be closed Wednesday for personal issues. We will reopen again Thursday. Thank You.”
The sign had said it all. My quest was resulting in a complete waste of time. So, did I want to face heavy traffic for 30 minutes and go to the local Pet Smart? No. I simply wasn’t in the mood. Across the street was another option. An option that I didn’t want to consider, but perhaps, one that seemed easier than driving all over creation. WALMART!
Faletame's face appeared in my brain. His poor cries for relief, his frantic scratching and the chance of me becoming a eunuch made the decision an easy one.
I drove across the street and entered the dreaded parking lot. Fearing damage to my Ridgeline, I parked at the far edges of the Wally World parking lot, six miles from the front doors. Many of the customers here drove pieces of junk that they use in a demolition derby style to dent in the doors of decent vehicles as they hoist their 500 lb. bodies out and onto the golf carts (Walmart provides) for those too obese to waddle. Woe to the handicapped individual in search of one.
Not finding a golf cart handy, I waddled to the entrance. Halfway there, I had to remind myself to look for a suggestion box inside. "Dear Wally World, Please include pedestrian rest stops in your Disneyland sized parking lot. Many Thanks, The Fat One!"
Entering, I noticed the lack of a greeter. Then, I remembered the CIA had stopped paying Wal-Mart to employ them. I had paid these spies many times to stay quiet and not tell my friends I had shopped there. No longer would they be around to blackmail. Seeking employment elsewhere, those lucky enough to have green cards now work the drive-up windows at McDonalds.
Looking around, I spied no one that I was familiar with. So, desperation hadn’t hit my friends as it had I. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.
Carefully, glancing quickly to have time to hide should I happen upon a stray acquaintance from my past, I sped through the aisles towards the Pet Department. There it was, right across from the frozen pizza cooler. How did I know?
Source: RCRumple2012
Source: RCRumple2012
Source: RCRumple2012
Source: RCRumple2012
Not wanting to linger, I quickly found the cat supply area. It was right next to the dog beds. How did I know?
From the top to bottom and up again, I searched for something to battle the invaders from hell. Pet Shampoo, Cat Vitamins, Hair Ball Remover... oh, there it was, between the vitamins and the hair ball remover, Flea Killer. Directly below, a hammer.
Temptation almost overcame me, but I thought the better. I’ve made Faletame too famous. How could I ever explain such an immediate demise? Unlike many other stars, he had no history of drug abuse, nor was he married to Robert Blake or Robert Wagner. Yet, it could come in handy. I grabbed the hammer..
Let’s see, a ninety day supply for $42, a ninety day supply for $14, or a ninety day supply for $10. The choices were almost overwhelming. Having never heard of the maker of the $42 package, I decided to take the $14 package. I didn't recognize that maker either, but it cost me less to get to know him.
I succumbed to the Wal-Mart curse and headed towards the video department. $7.88 Blue Rays... how could I refuse. Most were already a part of my collection, but I did manage to find the Sci-Fi Channel's version of "The Wizard Of Oz" called “Tin Man” and a much needed copy of “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.” I'm really just a big kid at heart.
I turned to leave before more money flew from my wallet, only to find a 50,000 item display rising to the ceiling and blocking my escape. Having no option, I grabbed a copy of “The Hunger Games” gambling that I’d have a chance to watch it before the electric company turned off the electricity for non payment. Immediately, the display parted and allowed me an opportunity to leave. I was one of the lucky ones. I imagine there are many still trapped and going hungry.
Hiding behind rack after rack of women’s nightwear and maternity wear guilty pleasures, I worked my way to the cash registers. I knew I would be exposed here as it would put me in full view of anyone entering or leaving this castle of retail hell. Luckily, at 2 p.m. in the afternoon, I felt my luck changing as in front of me waited an empty register lane that actually had a cashier waiting. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.
I quickly used my debit card to pay for the merchandise, ran out the door, and waddled the six miles to the far end of the parking lot to where I had parked to avoid the demolition derby crowd. It wasn’t long before I made my way to my house, and I thought, solitude.
How wrong one can be!
RETURN OF THE DEMON CAT !! GABRIELA !!
YOU ARE UNDER MY POWER !!! I AM IN CONTROL !!!
Source: copyright RCRumple2012
... or, how I never want to spend my summer vacation
Gabriela was sleeping upon my entrance. The demonic laughter was not as noticeable during her slumber, but the haunting voices echoed softly as the swirling mists of Hell worked to hide her distinct features and location.
I silently slid along the wall to the kitchen. There, I opened the box of Flea Killer, next to the hammer, and made a decision. Flea Killer would be less messy. Thus, I removed one of the three plastic containers, snapped the top back on the first and headed to what I hoped to be an experience not worth writing about. I’m guessing you know better since I’m writing about it.
I softly knelt to the floor in front of the sleeping beast. Slowly moving my left hand close to her, my right, containing my weapon (Flea Killer... hammer still on kitchen table) found itself also moving forward. "This could go well," I thought at this point.
It was then the demon opened her eyes and froze every muscle in my body with her stare. She spun her head around three times and spouted out profanities about my dead mother. When the thunder and lightning made itself present by the room's ceiling, I knew my luck had run out.
She gave me fifteen seconds to make my move. My left hand began functioning again and pet her under her chin (Yes, I know it’s close to her mouth. So, I’m stupid and brave...okay, just stupid.) and slowly moved to her ears. Was she fooled? I could only hope. No Virginia, Santa Claus is a hoax.
As my right hand with the container approached the back nape of her neck, her nostrils flared. Fire, scorching the couch, raged from within. I quickly tried to apply the liquid before it was too late. Little did I know it already was.
Claws found their way into my left forearm as teeth snapped at my right. Ripping deeply, all feeling left as nerves and tendons were destroyed forever as the claws sought to grate the skin for her evening salad. Still, I had success on my mind.
My right hand struck with hibernating rattlesnake velocity, blurred in the air. The back of her neck received a full shot of Flea Killer as she leapt off the couch, carrying my left arm with her to munch on at her leisure. I hear the bones crunching as I type this... one handed.
I turned to see Faletame, lying on his back, holding one front paw on his stomach and the other over his eyes, laughing up a storm. I remembered the hammer.
Back to the kitchen, I found snapping the new pack a little more difficult with only one arm. The hammer would definitely be easier. Yet, I had made him a star. He had to be good for at least one more hub. And, I would still have the hammer.
He took it like a man... er... dog.... er... cat. The only problem I had with him was aiming as he still was quaking with numerous belly laughs. After applying, I looked and saw a flea on his back toweling off. Perhaps, I should have bought the $42 stuff.
Oh well, as soon as I get the bleeding stopped on my left stub, it’s time for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!
And if the cats don’t like it, I still have the hammer.
Disclaimer:
The purpose of this is to make you laugh. Comedy is filled with embellishments of real situations. Many understand this. For the few still believing that I have only a left stub remaining, all contributions can be sent to
Rich Rumple, 1015 Give Me All You Got Ave., Lexington, Ky.
I do appreciate the naive! : )
©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved
nor was he married to Robert Blake or Robert Wagner. ....love that line
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