Stank Wars

Three hours ago, I turned on the A/C as I prepared to blog. My fiancée was at my house, doing some homework nearer the foot of the bed. As I thought about what to write, my reverie was broken by her request: “Honey, there’s a stink bug near the window; would you mind getting it and killing it for me?”

At least, this is how I lovingly interpret her exclamation; she’s a little less articulate when the only signal her brain is sending her mouth is: “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I leapt up from the bed, grabbed some toilet paper, and squished the bugger before tossing him disgustedly into the trash can. Quick and dirty, I managed not to get his stink on my hands, and enveloped as he was by Charmin, not much escaped into the air either.

At least, that’s what would have happened if I was not so busy calming my frayed nerves and exclaiming: “You have got to stop doing that, babe!”

Over the next few minutes, despite my best wishes, it was clear the stink bugs were nearly pouring through the running A/C unit. It was now time for it to be gone from the window.

We cleared the area near the window of hiding places, and sealed up the dilapidated bed against them flying in and hiding between the springs to crawl over my body as I slept. Spiders I can handle swallowing in my sleep, provided I never learn of it. Stink bugs will probably wake me up on a trip down the esophagus.

The curtain was pulled aside, and I had five sheets of toilet paper folded in preparation of pulling the unit and shutting the window. Courtney had escaped the room to wait in safer environs as her valiant knight battled the stench-breathing dragon-bugs crawled once more from the sulfur pits of the Middle Ages. I peered ‘neath the unit to see what lay where I would need to grab; sure enough, about five of the prehistoric incensers were huddled there. A knife, I thought. I can stab ‘em with that.

I was not worried about stinking up the room; that was going to happen. But, oddly, their armored bodies resisted the blade, and like proverbial cockroaches they swarmed from under their aluminum porch-roof and began crawling across the window. In fifteen seconds, my stockpile of TP was gone, and I had yet to remove the tape and pull the unit. The night was going well.

Getting pretty thoroughly stinked, I unraveled more ammunition and prepared. I pulled the window open a little bit, pulled the unit from it and quickly set it on the floor. I tried to shut the window, but foiled! The little tabs which held the unit against the sill stuck up about an inch, and kept the window from shutting entirely. No matter; about fifteen of the brutish bugs were stuck fast against the back window frame, unsure what to do in the sudden light. Grabbing my paper, I squished and grabbed and squeezed and pitched; the stench of the slain filled my nose, than faded as olfactory nerves grew insensate. I opened the window once more to remove the tabs, then shut it fully once more. There was still the unit to contend with.

Wedged into the vanes, and hiding within the unit itself, were another ten or so of the critters. As they appeared, I spooled off tissue and grabbed and squeezed. It had been hot before, which was why I turned the A/C on in the first place. Sweat now rolled down my back as I shook bugs free, rolled TP, squished and pitched.

I don’t know how many lay slain, but I was victor on the battlefield. The unit is outside, where it will remain for a couple good frosts – and maybe a blizzard – to kill everything inside it. The window has been thoroughly sealed with Gorilla Tape. And I sit and write this now with a fan blowing on me.

Inside the fan is nowhere to hide.