Catching flies with chopsticks is an age-old technique, and one we know well in our family. In fact, it’s become a rite of passage, for when a famiy member turns five years old. They must catch seven flies in their chopsticks, one for each of the heaven gates, and if they cannot then there is no food.
I remember it taking me six days. However, there IS a feast afterwards, so it’s not quite so bad. Now, I am tempted to see if our family has grown rusty, instead of doing what is done here in Melbourne and calling termite control. Frankston would perhaps be the closest, but I am still weighing our options. Termites were never much of a problem, back in our home country. Perhaps the miasma of fear and intimidation output by our family was enough to scare even the simplest of creatures, hence why birds never made their nests in our rooftops and the only beasts who would dare approach were our trained dogs.
Now, we appear to have lost some of our edge. These termites are taking over the headquarters, and their tactics are devious, much like our own. They steal through the walls, unseen, consuming all that they wish, and there is no way to fight off so very many of them. This is why professional pest removal companies exist, I suppose. They wield the tools of the modern era, brews that we could not dream of, although perhaps they have SOME similarities to the concoctions we use in our smoke and acid bombs. I will ask them, because this problem cannot be allowed to get any further. We do not have enough chopsticks, and they cannot penetrate the walls quite as well.
It’s time for real pest control. Berwick should be far enough…we don’t want to allow just about anyone access to the intimate innards of our headquarters.