My War With The Fleas: Part Three Poem by Lonnie Hicks

They had Mugsy cornered on the couch in the family room; he was whimpering and scratching madly as FC directed his evil minions to “go for the eye that really freaks them out.”

True Mugsy was not only allergic to fleas but he was very sensitive when they attacked around his mouth and his eyes. He was scratching so badly that he had scrapped the fur off and was down to bere skin around his mouth and that, of course, made it easier for the fleas to suck away.

He saw me coming and looked up mournfully hoping for some help. And help I gave him.

I took out my bottle of flea spray and squirted some in my hand and began to run it in around his mouth carefully avoiding his eyes.

A rugged looking flea feeling the sting of the flea-killing spray fell wounded but Flea Commander picked him up trying to drag him to safety in the deep hairs around Mugsy’s neck an area they knew Mugsy could not scratch easily.

I headed them off with a spray to the neck hair area and for one long moment I spotted Flea commander, we eye ball to eye ball and then he leapt of sight.

No person in the entire world has ever seen where a flea lands when they make their leap, the equivalent of a 16 foot vertical jump if FC were human. He was there one minute and then gone the next.

But his friend was not so lucky, I caught him in some of Mugsy’s short hairs and gave him the time-honored flea-squeeze, the flea between your thumb and forefinger applying death dealing pressure.

I confess dear reader, it felt good.

The critter had been plump with Mugsy blood I heard a little pop.
How nice.

But Flea commander meantime barked out new orders: “Abandon Dog”

That was a smart move.

He was telling them to jump off Mugsy, and hide in the couch until later when someone else sat down unsuspecting they could jump back on them.

I knew I could not let that happen.

I start to whisk Mugsy to the door and put him outside where if the fleas jumped off they would be jumping outside where the harm they could do could be minimized.

Flea commander saw me picking Mugsy up and yelled 'Go for his eyes.'

I realized with a start he meant my eyes.

A titanic struggle ensured with me racing to the door, dog in hand and the fleas leaping off seeking shelter on the couch, or on me to get away from the deadly spray I had applied to Mugsy.

I reached the door before most of them could jump off and Mugsy and I stood outside to see a truly terrifying sight.

Flea Commander had used Mugsy as a decoy from his main attack point outside where he had assembled his air force.

I was stunned with Mugsy in my arms and as my eyes grew accustomed to the light I could see what Flea Commander was doing with his air force.

There were huge horse flies the kind with metallic green backs flying in formation, one I could see, was their leader who looked at me with his overlarge eyes; he had an eye patch over one eye and a pirate bandanna on his head, looking like a fly version of Johnny Deep.

He was smart. He waved his mosquito swarm to attack first while his fly squad concentrated on what I saw was dropping fungus spores on our tomato plants.

'My God, ' I thought 'they are after the tomato plants! '

Meantime the gnats were in the herb garden and the snails too, were creeping toward the rose bush. It was a massive attack with overwhelming force. Flea commander, I realized, was using Colin Powell tactics-attack with overwhelming massed forces.

I would have to counter with Alexander the Great. In chess this was called the Knights gambit.

I would go for Flea Commander himself; cut off the head of the snake and the tail will wither.

I headed directly for him, hiding in the tomato plants spotting for a swarm of mosquitoes and gnats, directing them to dive bomb Mugsy, knowing I would move to protect him.

But I was not diverted.

I moved to my left and pulled the string on my leaf blower, my anti-air craft device.

It roared to life with a tremendous noise and I pointed it up toward the monster flies and the mosquitoes with one hand and sprinkled flea power into the air blast with my other hand.

A huge white cloud of air and flea powder surrounded the flies the gnats, and the mosquitoes.

I shouted with pleasure and danced out there on my patio like Mohammad Ali doing the rope-a-dope.

Flea commander was startled and furious as he saw squadron after squadron become engulfed by my flea power cloud and dropp out of the sky.

Take that Red Barron.

Then I focused on Flea Commander now wielding my hand weapon, an electrified fly swatter, which looked like a tennis racket except instead of strings it had a mental grid which became electrified when you pressed a button and the two big D batteries inside could instantly fry a fly when I swung that racket.

Lonnie 40; flies love.

Fry flies on my racket I was then on the prowl headed for Flea Commander himself, thinking leap and you’ll leap right into my 100 mile an electric serve.

I was delirious with joy and I approached him.

But he had one more trick up his sleeve.

To be continued.