Meeting the Bug Busters

I recruit my childhood babysitters to help me fight the spider crisis.

Spider Log: 09.2025.5

I arrived early to The Drunken Rooster. The local bar was quiet this afternoon. The dark intricate wood beams and black metal patterned ceiling cast the place in infinite shadows. Dim indoor lighting only added to the husky, stillness of the place as a soft rain fell outside. The bar was empty today because the Nebraska Huskers football team had an off week.  The bar was literally a ghost town. Fitting for it once was a mortuary or a bank, I could never remember which one.

It’s unusual for me to be anywhere early, because I’m always in the nick of time. Not early, not late, but arriving exactly at the time I need to be there. Some might say I’m late if I’m not early. Others would just shake their head and wonder how I keep a job.

The bar owner Al leaned against the counter, one hand clutching a white towel, as he stared up at the TV.

“Don’t change the channel. I got a lot riding on this game,” Harry said. He leaned on the bar; one hand curled around his glass beer mug. I squinted at the TV but couldn’t see who was playing. The telltale green and yellow uniform looked like Oregon, but I didn’t recognize the opposing team.

Al shook his head. “How many games are you betting on this time?”

“Five,” he replied.

Al shook his head, and tossed the towel onto his shoulder. “Wish I had that kind of money,” he said,.

“No, you don’t,” Harry replied, draining his glass and sliding it toward Al. “More money brings more problems.”

Al shook his head and took the glass to refill it.

Harry’s gaze turned toward me, he nodded, and then rested his chin on his hand, staring at the TV. Ruggedly handsome, Harry was a bachelor who lost the love of his life to a car accident. He won the lottery a few years back. No family. No kids. Sought after by many women in town, Harry kept to himself mostly. I thought of asking him for help. Surely he had connections; people with money always had connections.

The door opened and the bell above the door jingled, interrupting my thoughts.

Laura came first, striding into the room like she owned the place, waving at Al and Harry before sliding into the chair beside me. She wrapped me a in a side hug.

“Maureen, how are you? What’s going on?” Laura asked. “You said it was urgent.”

“It is,” I replied, tension melting from my shoulders. I broke from her hug, my eyesight blurring. She understood me, more than most. A solid presence in the storm of life, she never changed. I waved at Al to bring Laura her signature drink. Sex on the Beach.

“I’m going to wait until Nellie arrives to tell you the whole tale, but for now, read this.” I slid the government letter across the table.

Laura’s eyes scanned the letter, looked up at me, and then down at the letter. “They won’t help you?” Al set her drink on the table. “Thanks Al.” She took a swig, sighed deeply and then turned back to the letter.

I sipped my strawberry margarita, strong enough to curl my toes. “No, clearly they don’t think it’s a big enough deal, But you know. You remember why…” I couldn’t finish the words, couldn’t dig deep into that dark memory that I locked away. The first time I encountered spiders.

The bell jangled, and Nellie scurried in, brushing her blonde hair away from her face, shaking off the rain from her black coat. She swung herself into a seat across from me, her purse the size of a small suitcase, thumped onto the chair next to her.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. She adjusted the fabric collar around her neck, her fingers straightening the metal black bat. “I found a great oversized skeleton at Home Depot, and I just had to buy it. They sold out last year.” She wrapped her cold hands around mine and squeezed.

I smiled. “Getting ready for Halloween early?” Nellie had the biggest yard decorations for Halloween every year. The kids always made a stop at her house. She was a fan favorite, having won numerous awards for her decorations. One year, she was even on some decorating show on HGTV.

“So what’s up? Why did you call us?” she said. Al brought her a smoking glass of bourbon. She really took the whole Halloween “smoke show thing” seriously.

“She’s having a problems with spiders again, and the government won’t do anything about it.” Laura explained, sliding the letter toward Nellie.

“I didn’t know who else to call. You have always been my bug killers,” I said.

Laura smiled, “When you were a kid, you’d scream ‘bug, bug, bug,’ as you ran down the stairs because there was a bug in your room.”

“And you always took care it.” My cheeks warmed at the memory. They had always been my protectors since I was a child. Even now, as an adult, I knew they’d understand my spider catastrophe and wouldn’t judge me. “I can’t get the mail. The spiders are literally living in my packages, and then they slip into the house. Just yesterday, there was a wolf spider the size of a half dollar on the wall by the litter box. I couldn’t empty the box, because the spider was right next to the scoop.” My lips pinched, and I shuddered. “I shut the door to the spare room. I’m certain the room reeks like urine now.”

Laura shook her head. “Have you tried calling the exterminator? I know a good one.”

Nellie shook her head. “An exterminator can’t solve this big of a problem. She can’t get her mail, and they’re moving into her house. Winter is coming. There will be a battle for control of her house.” Nellie fixed her steel gray eyes upon me. Her gaze unwavering, protective. “It’s been such a bad year for spiders.”

“True,” Laura admitted. “If you can’t call an exterminator, how about the National Guard?”

I suppressed a sob. “I think the government blacklisted me. When I call the National Guard’s number, I just get stuck in this infinite loop. I scream customer service, operator, someone human, and the robot operator tells me to press ‘1 ’to return to the previous menu. I was on the phone for four hours. I would have kept trying, but it was time to make supper.” Laura and Nellie both gasped.

“What does our taxes pay for?” Nellie shook her fist in the air. “I petitioned for Halloween to be a yearlong holiday once. I walked around in a witch’s costume and decorated the stairs of the governor’s house with pumpkins.” She paused, smiled at Harry. He nodded, then turned back to the TV.

Hope surged in my soul. I hadn’t thought of protesting on a local level. If the federal government was too big to help, maybe our governor would take my pleas seriously. “Did it work?”

The corner of Nellie’s mouth twitched. “He said, he’ll take it before the Unicameral this year.”

Laura’s eyebrow arched high into her bangs. “Seriously? You believed him?”

Nellie took a swig of her smokey drink and narrowed her eyes. She reached for a handful pretzels and crunched silently.  

“You don’t think it will work?” I asked, my lips trembling. “I need your help…”

When I was a teenager, Laura and Nellie tried to make the bug busting thing work, but people tried them out, but killing bugs got costly and someone invented Raid. Much cheaper solution in the short term, but I couldn’t very well spray Raid in my mailbox and coat my mail in oily substance.

“Listen Maureen,” Laura said. This sounds like a much bigger problem than we can handle. We hung up our bug busting coats years ago. No one wanted to use us, and well I have a mortgage, bills, a car payment, and life insurance isn’t cheap at my age.”

I stilled. That wasn’t the real reason. “It’s because of what happened in Isla Perdida isn’t it?” It was a remote island, overrun with snakes and bugs. After the whole Raid business put the sisters out of business, Laura and Nellie had been doing business with smaller islands along the Florida coast. Bugs and spiders thrived in warm, humid conditions where there was never any hard freeze.

Laura introduced a poisonous frog to the island; the frogs secrete a poison as defense mechanism. The locals thought the frogs were evil. At first, they shot them with flaming arrows (which wasn’t a bad idea for spiders, actually) as they believed the frogs were evil. Nellie learned to use sign language to communicate with the local shaman to tell the villagers that the frogs would reduce the snake problem. The shaman agreed with some reluctance. The poisonous frogs killed the snakes and the frogs ate the bugs. Problem solved. The frogs had babies every four weeks and before long the island was overrun with frogs. Everyone had to evacuate the island.

Laura glanced at her watch and shoved back from her chair. She swallowed that last of her drink. “I have to go pick up snacks for the kids on my team. I’ll make some calls, Maureen. Maybe I can find someone.”

She had a youth football team, and football players got hungry. Very hungry. I hugged her, wished her well and felt a little of my hope shrivel inside. The bell jangled as she rushed out the door, replaced by the stillness.

Nellie passed her glass back and forth between her hands. The glass slid easily on the tabletop. I stared down at the rows of bottle caps encased beneath the acrylic top.

“Tell her, Nellie,” Al called from the bar. His gaze pierced Nellie, and she stiffened.

Nellie apprehension creased her face, and she looked more pale than her normal skin color. “Are you sure? There’s so few left.”

He nodded. “The girl needs help. This a crisis, Nellie. I can get more.”

I cleared my throat. What was happening? “Get more what?” I managed.

Nellie swallowed. She glanced from me to Al and back to me again. “Poisons files. They are dipped in a special kind of poison that makes their butts glow irresistibly to spiders.

Poisonous flies. Wait.. “You mean fireflies?”

Nellie smiled. “Not exactly.”