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Pest-Control \"War Stories\" Series, p3

Ok, this one client was batshit insane. He lived out in the middle of nowhere, and his place was powered by generators. I mean, if you met this guy in real life, you wouldn't suspect a thing, but the instant you saw his mobile home out in the middle of nowhere, the first thought that would cross your mind is "I'm not leaving this place alive".

He had this rusty barb-wire fence surrounding his property, and he had signs saying something like "You're under surveillance" (memory is foggy on what exactly they said - they were generic warning signs of "keep out", but with more conspiracy theory themed wording). There was a weedy, narrow dirt path leading up into his place...oh yeah, he had one of those large metal swing gates. He was nice enough to already have the padlock unlocked, so I could open it. I didn't see any cameras, but his place was easily visible from the front gate. I mean, if the guy had a sniper rifle (assuming he did haha), he could easily get a clear shot straight down to whoever was messing around with his gate. This was one of the times I was glad there was a giant "Terminix" logo plastered on the side of my truck.

Oh yeah, another worry? No address letters. I mean, at the time, there was no GPS or Google maps. We had these large map-books of the area, and the best detail they got was just a scribbly line with the name of the street. You want "Dead Bodies LN"? That's in Square I-4. Good fucking luck to you if you find it, because the map drawer didn't even bother driving up that road. So yeah, I had to "guess" that I had the right place, most of the time for first visits. After that, it was easy to spot-memorize locations.

So I drive up there, knock on the door, and the guy answers. Really nice guy, and kinda nerdy. He invites me in, and there's hardly anything in the place. I mean, he had these HUGE antennas on top of the place, and of course, crazy-person signs all around the outside, but the interior was spotless (everything was decorated brown...linoleum floor, panel walls, countertops). No dogs, which I kind of expected from these out-of-the-way places. He gives me a quick tour, and in one bedroom, he has this massive server room (has about 7 computers under a fold-out dining table, with 3 monitors on top, also has wires running up to the antennas). Never bothered to ask what it was (fearing for my life as it is at this point), but yeah, suspicious much? You bet. The guy didn't even have a tv in his place.

So yeah, getting to the actual pest story. He wants a normal treatment, but he wants me to get rid of a possum living under his mobile home. At this point, who am I to say no, even though this was after I found out we don't deal with "animals". I figure I can scare the thing away and then tell the guy to seal up any holes in the skirting.

He takes me out back, and he has this fire-pit made of cinderblocks. Apparently he burns his trash in it. Anyway, what he did was, he came home one night and heard something rustling in his garbage can on his back porch. It was empty at the time, so he lifted the lid, and there was a possum at the bottom, just staring up. The crazy son of a bitch lit his fire-pit and dumped the possum in there. Of course, the animal didn't like that one bit, so it jumped out and ran right under his house, still having bits of flaming paper stuck in its fur. He said he's left the can open several nights since, but it hasn't jumped back in, even with "bait" (who can blame it haha).

He removes a panel, and I crawl under - immediately, I see light coming through a hole in the skirting, and make a note of it. I crawl around, and shine my flashlight, but I never do find the damn thing. I crawl back out, and inspect the skirting around the outside. There's scratchmarks and "chewing" at every corner of the place. I assume this is an outpost that gets attacked by zombies every night, by the looks of it. I tell him the problems, and he agrees to fix it.

The guy initially signed a 1 year contract, but after my visit, he immediately cancels his service. He never paid his bill, either.

pest control, story, terminix