Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

my enemies sent an assassin

in the wee morning hours, i heard the subtle sounds of an attack. i disoriented my foe by quickly turning on all the lights. my enemy stumbled into my carefully laid tupperware trap in the kitchen.

interrogation will commence in twelve hours, when the oxygen and food supply inside the plastic prison have run precariously short (and, i get home from work).

initial questioning has only revealed name, rank and serial number.

Aloisius Lilius Calabria, Sergeant with the rank of 6 in his awful insect army.

Diva, ever the violent sort, is already convinced that the first torture device to be used should be the washing machine - which, I guess is as close to water-boarding as we can do in a humble, urban apartment with a yellowjacket.

Massimo, ever the cowardly lion, pretended to be dead until the code yellow subsided. After the assault, he was observed eating, and running off to the closet to patrol for more hidden enemies in my sock drawer.

(*incidentally, has anyone else noticed that home assaults are no longer the stuff of quiet obscurity. Now, everyone seems to feel the need to blog their averted pest disasters - with gross, disgusting pictures, no less. See scary/gross thing in home; grab digital camera for close-up!)

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