Flea Commander had determined to utilize his most potent strategy, the Queen’s Gambit in chess.

My wife was in the living room spraying madly but Flea Commanders had six weeks earlier sent his dark operations unit into the house burrowing deep under the house itself, having the flies plant their larvae, their hatching to be timed with the main attack.

Flea Commander was truly evil.

The Queen’s Gambit. It could end the war because my wife can’t stand flies.

Yet coming up from under the house thousands had already begun their zombie march up through the air conditioning ducts, up through the heating system.

Before I warn her not too my wife, Holly, turned on the air conditioner and thousands of baby flies were swept up by the blast into every room in the house.
 

My wife, as I came in, sat impassively and to my rear I could hear Flea Commander yelling “Good job commandos. We have them now. Remember no mercy; we are here for their blood.” Extra blood rations for the man or woman fly who sucks on the Queen.”

The baby flies swarmed over the cat too surprising her.

Miss Daisy leapt up five feet shocked at the attack. The fleas started to simultaneously bite. I nodded to my wife and said quietly, “Now is the time for the nuclear option.”

Flea commander had all of his troops rush the living room, coming in through my open patio door, coming up in the ducts, in through the windows, a vermin swarm after vermin swarm all massing around my wife.

I grabbed up Mugsy and the cat and heading for the door, as Holly, my wife suddenly sprang from her chair and rushed around the house closing doors and windows and the air conditioning ducts.

Flea commander was yelling, “On mates, we have them panicked and on the run. “Remember we must get the Queen.”

I rushed outside and put the animals in the van and waited until my wife had finished closing the windows and doors.

She came out, swarm behind her, she shaking them out of her hair, yet calm.

“Now” she said.

I rushed back into the house feeling fleas underfoot in the carpeting, flies, gnats and creepy crawlies biting at my ankles.

Holding my ground I stood in the living room shouting at the top of my lungs.

“Come on, all of you, come on, you want a piece of Me.? You want a piece of Me?

The swarms swarmed, Flea commander was beside himself with joy standing on the back of my couch confident now of victory dancing the flea dance of victory.

But then dear reader I unleashed the nuclear-Electric option.

I popped the top of a gigantic can of flea pads,  and then turned on the light switch, activating electric pads which had been installed at various points in the house. The fleas were being electrocuted. I  could hear Flear Commander tryng to rally his troups but they were unable to hear, most being paralyzed by the flea traps.

I opened a second front and tossed a small bag of  Diatomaceous Earth into the air conditioning duct, and a third into the crawl space under the house, my mind flushed with the anticipation and vision of a bug holocaust

I opened my front door looking back one last time, to see Flea Commander clutching at his throat gasping for air, wheezing and before expiring croaked “Next August, Lonnie, and next August” he said, “let’s do this again.”

I smiled an evil smile; and closed the door quietly thinking “Your mistake FC was to mass all of your troops in one spot, in an enclosed space.

My wife gave me the thumbs up.  We had won a major battle in the War Against the Fleas and went for a long drive in the country.