I'm the fucking Orkin Man
As news spreads of the turmoil in the rest of the country, Hog Island mobilizes its little know, little trained, militia group. In other words, a platoon of beer swilling hillbillies in BDUs, carrying civilian M16s.
I was content to let them swill beer, but they got it in thier head that I could provide "valuable intelligence on the enemy".
They only managed to find me because, well, an Orkin truck is pretty hard to miss. And they had the main road blocked off. And guns.
They had lots and lots of guns.
So I drive up to see them waving thier arms, being very "official". An overweight man then walks up to my drivers side window and taps the glass. Obligingly I roll down the window.
"You the bug man?"
"Sort of. You in the army?"
"Sort of. My commanding officer wants to speak with you."
That sentence does not compute.
"Um...why?" I ask.
"Sir, it is believed that you may be able to provide valuable intelligence on the enemy."
"Um...why?"
He pauses, then says "Well, sir, you know how to kill bugs, right?"
"Yeah, you step on them."
"All due respect, sir, there ain't a boot big enough. But you know what would kill these ants, don't you?"
"Well...we could tell the army to fly a giant magnifying glass over them."
The beer bellied sentry sighs and narrows his eyes.
"Sir, where did you plan on going?"
"Hershey, Pennsylvania."
"We can't allow that, sir."
"Um...why?"
"Because you might be able to provide--"
"--valuable intelligence, right." I interrupt.
He stares at me. I stare at him.
"What's in Hershey?" He says.
"Chocolate."
He starts to get mad. His partner, the skinny man in this two man act, chimes in. "What's the hold up?"
"Oh for Christ's sake! They like chocolate. They're freakin' ants! They LIVE for sugar! If you look at the maps, they slowed down in Hershey. And once ants find a supply of food, they form a train to and from the main nest. Find Hershey, find the supply line, find the nest, find the queen, kill the hive."
The man blinks once, twice, then replies: "How are you gonna kill the queen?"
Now my eyes narrow.
"I'm the fucking Orkin Man."
Beer bellied sentry lets out a yell.
"Now THAT'S all you had to say! Wait up a while, I'll tell me C.O. and we'll escort you on your mission!"
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea. I'm sure most of the roads are down. You might be needed to defend your homes."
"Are you kidding? We got Hummers and F-350's! And hell, half our wives are in the unit, anyway, an' the other half can join up! You sit tight, we'll get you to Hershey with a full escort and some major firepower! I think we even got ourself a fully functional 'saw 'ole Bob restored up. May even pack about 500 or so rounds. Once we recruit some of the older kids, we should be just about battalion strength!"
Why do I not feel safer?
I was content to let them swill beer, but they got it in thier head that I could provide "valuable intelligence on the enemy".
They only managed to find me because, well, an Orkin truck is pretty hard to miss. And they had the main road blocked off. And guns.
They had lots and lots of guns.
So I drive up to see them waving thier arms, being very "official". An overweight man then walks up to my drivers side window and taps the glass. Obligingly I roll down the window.
"You the bug man?"
"Sort of. You in the army?"
"Sort of. My commanding officer wants to speak with you."
That sentence does not compute.
"Um...why?" I ask.
"Sir, it is believed that you may be able to provide valuable intelligence on the enemy."
"Um...why?"
He pauses, then says "Well, sir, you know how to kill bugs, right?"
"Yeah, you step on them."
"All due respect, sir, there ain't a boot big enough. But you know what would kill these ants, don't you?"
"Well...we could tell the army to fly a giant magnifying glass over them."
The beer bellied sentry sighs and narrows his eyes.
"Sir, where did you plan on going?"
"Hershey, Pennsylvania."
"We can't allow that, sir."
"Um...why?"
"Because you might be able to provide--"
"--valuable intelligence, right." I interrupt.
He stares at me. I stare at him.
"What's in Hershey?" He says.
"Chocolate."
He starts to get mad. His partner, the skinny man in this two man act, chimes in. "What's the hold up?"
"Oh for Christ's sake! They like chocolate. They're freakin' ants! They LIVE for sugar! If you look at the maps, they slowed down in Hershey. And once ants find a supply of food, they form a train to and from the main nest. Find Hershey, find the supply line, find the nest, find the queen, kill the hive."
The man blinks once, twice, then replies: "How are you gonna kill the queen?"
Now my eyes narrow.
"I'm the fucking Orkin Man."
Beer bellied sentry lets out a yell.
"Now THAT'S all you had to say! Wait up a while, I'll tell me C.O. and we'll escort you on your mission!"
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea. I'm sure most of the roads are down. You might be needed to defend your homes."
"Are you kidding? We got Hummers and F-350's! And hell, half our wives are in the unit, anyway, an' the other half can join up! You sit tight, we'll get you to Hershey with a full escort and some major firepower! I think we even got ourself a fully functional 'saw 'ole Bob restored up. May even pack about 500 or so rounds. Once we recruit some of the older kids, we should be just about battalion strength!"
Why do I not feel safer?
posted by Max Orkin at 9:05 PM
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