Die, You Lil’ Blood-Sucking Bastards!

SwampMan is allergic to fleas. The first inkling that either one of us had that his barn was infested with fleas was when he was scatching his ankles yesterday afternoon. I asked what was wrong, since he couldn’t seem to stop. “I dunno! I have these red, itchy lumps just above where my socks hit. You think mosquitos got me when I was out at the barn?”

I looked at the ankles. There were, indeed, huge red, inflamed welts, some bleeding from scratching. SwampMan is allergic to fleas.

“No, sweetie. You’ve got fleas.”


“In your barn. There are fleas in the barn from the cats.”

“Well….DO SOMETHING! This horrible itching is driving me crazy!”

So, I did. I got some spray flea poison from Home Depot that promised to not only kill the adult fleas, but it would prevent the immature fleas from developing. Sounded good to me! I read the directions. It could be used indoors or outdoors, on carpeting or bare floors. I decided that I probably ought to treat the carpet around where SwampMan relaxes into his lazy chair and takes off his (probably flea infested) socks. I started spraying.


“What? I’m spraying this in here because you probably brought fleas in on the carpet.”

“NO! It’s POISON!”

*sigh* Whatever. Fine. I went out and sprayed around in his barn and left the container on his desk, and told him to respray in the morning.

I went out to his barn (well, big workshop) this morning. “Did you respray your barn?”

“Yep!” He was quite proud of himself.

I looked down at my white ankle socks. They were black with fleas. “I, uh, don’t think it worked.”


“See all the fleas on my socks?”


“The things that aren’t WHITE.”

“Oh. So those are the fleas, huh?

“Where’s the flea spray?”

“Over beside the desk. Why?”

I went over, picked it up, and sprayed down my legs and socks.

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!” came a sound out of my husband somewhat like a squealing pig or toddler who just had her fingers tramped on. “YOU JUST PUT POISON ON YOU!”




“It’s POISON! You could DIE!”

I looked down at the fleas on my legs and socks. The fleas didn’t appear to be in any distress at all, and I do believe that the concentration in them would probably be quite a bit higher than the concentration in me just due to the size differential.


“What?” gasped my husband.

“I might not be able to pupate!”

2 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    JenDaisy said,

    heh, You know all that frontline and advantage I brought you? You can place that on the cats if they are still around. Also buy some boric acid and place it all around- it will kill fleas also.

  2. 2

    swampie said,

    Yeah, I need to get it on Hugo but I still haven’t seen Jag (who never let me get near him anyway).

    I Sevin-dusted the crap outta the floor back where Hugo is staying.

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