Sis glared at me from where she sat in the vast sticky lake and vented spleen in both Thai in German. I had very little choice as to my options. I deftly removed the cat from the pot and poured the water over her head.

Maybe I should start at the beginning.

We've got ants. The legion of ants down by the gate post has carved a path across the gravel and clay driveway an inch and a half wide and a half inch deep. We've got giant black ants on down to minute red ants the size of half a pin head with acid dripping mandibles straight from Aliens. We've got hordes of ants that would have put Genghis to shame on his best day. It is so bad that, and I don't exaggerate at all, you cannot put a drink on the coffee table without the ants getting the last sip.

My six year old niece stands just outside my office door, strictly obeying the rule this room is off limits. She lays another blast of Thai on me. It sounds urgent. I close my document and open the translator web pages while telling her, "Nein. Nein! Sprechen Deutsch". Raised in Germany by a Thai mother her English ability is zip. Zilch. Nada. We can forget Thai translating with it's 504 letter alphabet and at least I know a tiny smattering of German. Time snails by as I exercise my limited German knowledge while typing what she is saying into the Babelfish. "die Katze auf den Boden geklebt..." The cat is stuck to the floor?

I get up and go out on the landing. The girl tries an appeasing smile. She is dripping. My foot is sticking to the floor. I had heard the crash of the pan earlier but what the heck. I drop things all the time. Going down the stairs to the sounds of desperate meowing from the cat I keep getting stuck and note wet kid sized footprints.

I take the scene in. The kitten is sitting in the middle of a lake in the middle of the kitchen. It is oddly immobile. The reality of what has come down comes down on me like I was trying to catch a Titan V booster stage. The little Spork was trying to impress her uncle by cooking some sort of German confection. What remains of a kilo of sugar is on the counter next to the cook top.

I do two things in very rapid succession. First, I let loose with a major curse and please be assured, I don't usually cuss and strongly refrain my language in front of kids. But there are exceptions. "F****** H***!!!!!" I then turn on the kid in full freak out mode (Me that is) and check her for burns. Major relief! Apparently the sugar syrup was only warm. I sweep her up into my arms and dash upstairs, putting her in the shower. Turning the water on I managed to convey to her to undress and leave her clothes in the tub. Now, of course, I'm liberally covered in sticky slurp.

Phase two: rescue the cat. I go back downstairs and assess. When the slurp spilled it hit the cold ceramic tile floor and solidified into a very effective adhesive. Apparently that was when the kitten made it's debut, romping out into the middle of the lake. Feet get sticky, it sits to clean them and that is that for cat mobility. But there is a problem. The only hot water in the house is the upstairs shower and the stairs and the up have hard wood floors. Get the syrup in that and we would have to seriously consider moving. My alternative is grab the largest cooking pot we have, fill it with water and warm it on the stove. The floor is so sticky I can barely walk. I'm amazed the cat made it that far out into the lake.

I'm pouring water all around the cat when the little Spork comes down from her shower. With the cat unglued in one hand I open the back door. Spork gets the mop and starts slooshing the puddle while I heat more water. I then note she has slooshed the water up against and under the huge wood kitchen cabinet. I lose it again, letting rip with another choice expletive. I relieve her of the mop and arm her with the squeegee for washing the windshield in the car. Spork gets the drift and starts slooshing the water out the door.

I put the cat in the sink and lock it in by putting the dish drainer over the sink while I formulate how I am going to get the goo out from under the cabinet. I'm going to have to jack it's 150 pounds up somehow, mop under it, pour a lake of hot water under it, lower it down and let it stew for a bit, then repeat... probably 10 or 20 times.

We get a coordinated operation going. I keep heating water, pouring it on the floor, mop it about then send it Sporkwards for her to sploosh out the door. The cat is meowing piteously and I figure I better deal with that. I extricate it from the sink and put it in the pot of warm water.

That is when Spork's mom puts in an appearance. Upon seeing her naked daughter on her hands and knees she makes a dash of about 2 steps and WHAM on her ass she goes. Spork sees mom getting into the fun, gives her a big cheesy grin and announces in a full half of her English vocabulary, 'F***ing H***, Mami!!'

Mom goes wide eyed but the spork isn't finished. She points at the cabinet and uses the rest of her new found English vocab: 'OH SH*T!!'

Sis is downstairs, probably getting ready to move. I'm a little sad about that. I'm really taking a liking to the Spork. So is the cat.

Where is Thaiville? Is it a new computer game like FarmVille?

Book soon ...

OP, please stop complaining, at least you haven't got ants in your fridge, like the other poor farang.

Which novel did you read recently and you copied your post?

Where is Thaiville? Is it a new computer game like FarmVille?

We should ask .. benj005

He's a self professed aficionado on this subject

FarmVille requests are ignored, I think I'll do the same with Thaiville. What a load of horse manure it is.

The OP is certainly no Lewis Carroll.

As an animal lover, I'm deeply concerned for the wellbeing of the cat.

The OP is certainly no Lewis Carroll.

Not even a Roger Hargreaves.

The OP is certainly no Lewis Carroll.

Not even a Roger Hargreaves.

Did he write Mr Plonker?

As an animal lover, I'm deeply concerned for the wellbeing of the cat.

I'm deeply concerned about the mental health of the OP.

Well, er, I think I understand your story. But to get right to a solution to part of it, run down to your local farm store and buy a very small bottle of Fibronil. We have had a huge outbreak of fire ants here which are very painful to our dog and even to us humans. I went to our local poison store the other day to buy some ant powder that works quite well and the owner gave me the big sell on Fibronil. It was a lot of talk, of which I understood about 20% as he was so excited about it and talking fast. Another hour at home researching the dilution rates, trying to read the instructions, and I finally made 1.5 liter of the solution in the sprayer. Sprayed the outside walls, the corners, and wherever I saw these bad boys cruising. A day later.... no ants. That little half pint bottle ought to be good for about five years the way it works, and it has a half life of 125 days. This is the same stuff that is used as the active ingredient in Frontline to control ticks in dogs so it is relatively safe, but it sure does work on ants. Do make sure you let it dry for two hours before you let your cat on it, even though its not sticky.

I loved the story! Some day, shit just happens and you have to find the funny side of it!

The OP is certainly no Lewis Carroll.

But he may be Charles Dodgeson.

I quite like his waxing lyrical.

OP. Quality. Made my day. Keep posting.

I'd move too, if I found my daughter (she's underage?) naked and slopping around in melted sugar. I certainly hope this is fiction, as someone might figure you for a perv, and making this story up as a cover.

Book soon ...

I hope you dont mean "back soon"

As an animal lover, I'm deeply concerned for the wellbeing of the cat.

I'm deeply concerned about the mental health of the OP.

Electrotherapy preferably HT

Addendum: Fibronil(sic). Fipronil is a powerful neurotoxin that should be introduced into your habitat with extreme discretion. Even the minute amount in flea powder produces a wide range of adverse effects in humans. Be that as it may I have, with both due caution and throwing caution to the wind, had our entire place, house and property treated with that stuff (and moving out for 10 days faterwards) twice as well as numerous repeated treatments with Chaindrite. I'm reasonably certain the fish in the river behind our place have suffered accordingly but the ant and termite populations are entirely unaffected. It's a rain forest! Short of nuclear weaponry and/or complete deforestation devastation, you aren't going to change the local faunas habits or habitat in an instant.

Playing with naked children. Sigh. I'm sorry but I'm a jaded paramedic, NA and PA. The occasional cobra in the yard is much more likely to stir my libido to a frenzy. But I will admit seeing her giggling herself into near hysterics at her mom wallowing in the goo shall remain a much cherished memory. Made even more memorable when I adamantly refused to let the mom, giggle-a-saurus in arms, go up the mopped and remopped stairs with dripping clothes on. I did get her a towel however, to help preserve modesty.

PS Of the lot of us, I think the cat survived the ordeal with far more sangfroid intact. I also think it put away more sugar water that day than a very large herd of hummingbirds could swallow in several lifetimes. It licking away was considered by the kid to be it's contribution to cleaning up the mess which got her started on supreme fits of giggledom. .

Edited July 18, 201411 yr by The Snark

I'd move too, if I found my daughter (she's underage?) naked and slopping around in melted sugar. I certainly hope this is fiction, as someone might figure you for a perv, and making this story up as a cover.

Since I be retired from the biz and no longer obligated to mince words...

If by some rare chance you or yours was to happen into an ER with, say, acute abdominal distress indicative of peritonitis, and the PoD decides that he wants an intervaginal fluid draw, and by some remote chance I be a standing at the head of the line for the scenic view, y'all or yours be more than welcome to clamp your legs together, stand up in the stirrups and scream perv if you think it will help. But it would be much appreciated if you let me get my head out of the cider press first.

The OP is certainly no Lewis Carroll.

But he may be Charles Dodgeson.

I quite like his waxing lyrical.

Use mention distinction. Analytic philosophy. Dodgson was very good at it. I like to employ it myself. It also makes a nice counterpoint to HST-esque skull sucking.

And now, if e'er by chance I put

My fingers into glue,

Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot

Into a left-hand shoe,

Or if I drop upon my toe

A very heavy weight,

I weep, for it reminds me so

Of that old man I used to know--

Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow

Whose hair was whiter than the snow,

Whose face was very like a crow,

With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,

Who seemed distracted with his woe,

Who rocked his body to and fro,

And muttered mumblingly and low,

As if his mouth were full of dough,

Who snorted like a buffalo--

That summer evening long ago,

A-sitting on a gate.

Edited July 18, 201411 yr by The Snark

The OP is certainly no Lewis Carroll.

But he may be Charles Dodgeson.

I quite like his waxing lyrical.

Use mention distinction. Analytic philosophy. Dodgson was very good at it. I like to employ it myself. It also makes a nice counterpoint to HST-esque skull sucking.

And now, if e'er by chance I put

My fingers into glue,

Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot

Into a left-hand shoe,

Or if I drop upon my toe

A very heavy weight,

I weep, for it reminds me so

Of that old man I used to know--

Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow

Whose hair was whiter than the snow,

Whose face was very like a crow,

With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,

Who seemed distracted with his woe,

Who rocked his body to and fro,

And muttered mumblingly and low,

As if his mouth were full of dough,

Who snorted like a buffalo--

That summer evening long ago,

A-sitting on a gate.

If you included Anto Baggins or Middle Thailand, I'd give you Tolkein.

Nah just joking.

But seriously, how much do they pay you for these stories?

Nah just joking.

But seriously, how much do they pay you for these stories?

Y'all is welcome to shove a few beads my way but I've never found an outlet for my superfluous persiflage.

Nice piece of writing, and that comes from a published author.