Fruit Fly Slayer

Once a summer I turn into a (self-proclaimed) "slayer." Usually it's a personal vendetta I fulfill against the fruit flies that attempt a hostile takeover of my kitchen. What this actually plays out as is me stalking around the house with lotiony hands grabbing flies out of the air and crushing them (I find the lotion makes it harder for them to sneak out between my fingers). If an outside observer were to stumble upon me in such a state, they might fear for their life... I imagine the 911 call going something like,

Operator: "911, what's your emergency?"

Concerned Neighbor: "Yea...I heard some commotion at my neighbor's house so I came to see if everything's OK...and...and oh...my..."

Operator: "Sir what do you see?"

Concerned Neighbor: "I'm looking through the kitchen window. She is running around the house. She's...kind of hunched over and her hands... they look like claws and are covered in something white. She's smiling or...no...no...she's baring her teeth like a wild animal and frantically swiping at the air... so many swear words... good Lord I didn't know eyes could open that wide."

Operator: "Sir, you need to slowly back away from the window. No sudden movements. Someone will be there shortly."

Concerned Neighbor: "Something smells like cocoa butter..."

And while the fruit flies are well on their way to a bad end, I have bigger bug problems at the moment: Caterpillars. It's one thing to cuss with my basil, but it's a whole other issue when you start eating the petals off my cussing daisies. Just look at this mess. Poor innocent little flowers. They were so happy only two days ago...and now look at them. It looks like they were cast in a Tim Burton film.





How do I know it's a caterpillar? Two ways:

1.) I read The Very Hungry Caterpillar when I was child. I saw the f'ing holes it ate through those pages. Daisy petals don't stand a chance.

2.) I caught one of the bastards with her head buried in a newly ripened strawberry. And a couple days before that I found one going to town at the top of a basil sprig.

Now, growing up on a ranch I learned how to study and recognize tracks-- a skill I knew I'd put to noble use one day. Therefore, I know a caterpillar is the culprit in my daisy situation because I studied their bite patterns on the aforementioned basil and strawberries after I made the following public proclamation:

"Attention all hungry Caterpillars: From this day forward should you be caught within dining distance of any and all fruits, vegetables, seedlings and botanicals, an immediate and swift execution is the best you can hope for. Your cuteness affords you zero protection in this garden."

Then, I sprayed everything down with soapy water...that usually does the trick.




And if not?
The hunt. is. on.