Tuesday, 15 June 2010

Tic, tiques, ticks,


Don't know how you spell it, and I don't care. These f******** have been eating the small dog alive for months — there's not much of him left. Being animal of little hair, they choose the ears, especially, way down inside, to quote Led Zeppelin. The bigger dog has also had an unfair share this year. Is it just the hills around Limoux which abound with these aliens, or are their numbers to do with the long coldness.
What is the point of a tic? Well one could say that about many things. Reality T.V, spam fritters, David Cameron . . . but really, what a life. Wait for about eight months in a freezing bush, jump onto a passing smelly dog, crawl into a dark warm recess (actually this bit sounds quite nice) and gradually inflate yourself with manky dog blood, until you feel like you really did eat too much Christmas dinner. Then fall off, only to be squashed by the next passing dog. Great.
I am generally 'live and let live' except perhaps with hornets, but the tic...how many ways can you finish off a tic? My favourite is to hold one with tweezers over a gas flame, pszzzzeettyttt! well we have to have some hunter sport in our veggy house from time to time.
One last tic recitation. I was cleaning our bedroom in the old house and removed a large pile of books from beside the bed. Amongst the fluff etc was a small flat brown dot. As I was about to sweep it away, it inflated and stood up in manner of scary metal police man in Terminator 2. These creatures will inherit the earth, survive any nuclear attack, asteroid collision, or plague we can be sure of that.

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