Never has an opponent brought out such feelings of absolute hatred in me. The thirst to kill has grown in me, springing forth from some unknown well buried deep within, urging me to continue the battle until a final victory is achieved. Perhaps a part of me has become twisted and I have reverted some sort of primeval state of being, because as I look upon the withered corpses of the defeated, a sense of euphoria washes over me. It may be that my grip on sanity has become tenuous, but any outcome less than victory, will leave me as only a husk of the man that I once was.
Before you judge me to harshly, and condemn me for the horrible beast that I have become, I would have you know that I did not choose to start this war. I was thrust upon me, against my will and I have been only left with two choices: Fight or surrender. I have chosen to fight.
The battleground has been in my very own yard. We have had a large influx in the number of yellow jackets buzzing around the house. So, I set forth on a reconnaissance mission to determine the source our pestering, and discovered that we had three hives situated in strategic locations around our complex.
The first enemy encampment discovered was an electrical junction box that enters the house near our back garage door. There was a small gap around the perimeter of the hole entering the wall and a hive had developed in the wall cavity. My first attempt to eradicate the buggers was met with failure as it proved difficult to get the poison in the wall. It was only after risking life and limb by removing the junction box from the wall that I was able to get enough poison into the cavity to bring about their demise. Needless to say they were not very happy with my digging about.
Battle ground number two was an electrical outlet next to our patio door. There were similar difficulties with this one as there was with the junction box. I first attempted to fill the entry hole with a mixture of gorilla glue and wall paste, but the pests were very resourceful and managed to chew through the mixture and reopen the hive after only one day. It was then that I knew I was in for a serious battle. Finally after two cans of poison and some liquid nails to fill in the gaps, both of these locations have been secured for the time being.
The final battleground is still being contested, but I believe I have gained the upper hand. It is a ground hive underneath the corner of my driveway next to the main section of walk that goes from the front door to the driveway. It was in this battle that I received my most grievous wound. In order to get at the entry way to the hive it was necessary to dig out the gravel covering it. This was the front line of their greatest resistance, and where my resolve was greatly tested. At the first strike of the shovel they attempted to swarm me, I quickly batted away several dive bombing attackers and retreated to a safer distance to measure up their strength. As I was calculating my next move a lone scout managed to attach itself to my legs and began to plunge it's venom filled harpoon into me. It was only the protective covering of my trousers that saved me from an awful fate. I determined that this was not the proper time to continue my endeavor and that it would be better to flee and fight another day.
It was about a day after my first attempt to close the entrances to the hives that I discovered a serious flaw in my battle strategy. Upon awaking in the morning I discovered about twenty of the enemy soldiers lurking about our mess hall. We would have be on red alert for the next several days. It was during this time that I sustained my first injury. As my main sleeping quarters were currently in the process of being redesigned, I had been temporarily stationed in the fore room until completion of the project. It was while sleeping in this fore room, that a stealth fighter had penetrated our defenses and landed a couple of painful blows to my person. While deep in sleep I felt a searing pain in the back of my head, not quite awake, I raised my hand to examine the injury and discovered the offending unit still in my hair. I quickly latched onto him in order to further prevent injury to myself, but the fog of sleep still had hold on me and my grip was not as secure as I had hoped and I received a second stab in my thumb. The injury to my thumb was mild but it did have the effect of causing me to let go of my quarry. The enemy waisted no time in taking advantage of my error and immediately dropped to my arm and inflicted what would be his final stab into my flesh. Having become fully aware of my situation, I desperately struck out with a killing blow and ended my peril. The next couple of hours were spent wide awake as sleep would not return easily. The next day I was haggard by fatigue but I was still alive, and I would make them pay dearly for their attack.
After a recovering from my injury I set about preparing the plans for the final confrontation. I had requisitioned a couple of chemical weapons and readied them for use. My plan was simple. I would attack fast and furious, hitting them hard with the first chemical device. While they were in a state of confusion I would then move in quickly with some heavy equipment and extricate the stones that were sheltering the entrance to their last hold out. Once the stones were removed I would hit them with the last chemical device, hopefully penetrating deep into their lair and ending the last of their resistance. The plan was executed almost flawlessly. Almost I said, as you can see from the photo, one of their soldier, I am sure sensing his inevitable demise, took a kamikaze approach and managed to land a significant blow to my right hand. The swelling is quite profound, but I am sure I will be able to fully recover and return to my patrol on the front lines.
Ah, nothing quite as glorious like the look of victory on the battlefield.
