This is Peanut Butter Brickle. Are you hiding a story inside? Maybe you’re hiding a secret. Maybe you’re afraid to let the story out because fear of judgment from others. But. What if that story had aged pretty good? What if now, that story needed to be told? What if now, you could laugh about it instead of crying? What if you could make someone laugh…even if it’s at your expense. Yes. I need to come clean.
I may not tell you everything all of the time. But I am going to blame this omission on Digby, who years ago was faced with the decision of whether to tell you about The Flea Apocalypse. And he decided against it. However, years later, three to be exact, it had occurred to me that I need to tell you about The Flea Apocalypse. I just do.
If you’ve been following our blog for awhile, you may remember when the persons went to Italy for two whole weeks and left me and Digby with our aunt Veronica. We lived in our Big Blue Treat Wagon at the time. And before they left on their trip, we were camping right here. Right where we are camped now, at that Florida place.
And as great as camping is, well, sometimes it can be real dirty. Sometimes you can share your room with bugs or wave at a passerby creature who happens to come into your campsite. And the persons do a lot of cleaning. A whole lot. But it was not enough at this campground. No. No it was not.
They packed up for their trip to Italy. They made our food and checked all their boxes. They found a place to park the Big Blue Treat Wagon for two weeks. They shut up the RV. They checked it over. They left on their trip. And the RV was in safe keeping. By the fleas. However, they did not know. They really did not know what was about to occur.
After two weeks of eating pizza and pasta and hiking while we were busy with our aunt being spoiled, some fleas had hitched a ride from camp. They had a party. Many had babies. Many built a life in that Big Blue Treat Wagon. It was now their home. Their abode. And when the persons came to pick up our house before they picked up me and Digby, they went inside to drive it back to camp. Everything looked good. Neat. Orderly. Girl Person started to tidy up. Boy Person was outside checking the engine. And all of a sudden. Girl Person felt something. Some pain on her legs and her feet. She looked down. She exclaimed, “I’ve stepped in an ant pile or something! What is happening?!” Boy Person looked at her jumping around. “Those aren’t ants! Those are fleas! Where have you been?” And it was too late.
Her white legs were now black. Covered in fleas. She panicked. She ran. Boy Person opened the door. They jumped on him. They were hungry. Real hungry. And now there were two persons running around with a party of fleas. Now there were two persons running around yelling “what are we gonna do?” This is The Flea Apocalypse!”
Now, I didn’t know what was happening. Either did Digby. But our aunt told us that the persons had had an emergency of sorts. That the RV wouldn’t start. Well, it wouldn’t. Because Boy Person couldn’t sit in the seat long enough without getting eaten alive to put the key in.
The persons had no idea what to do. It was late. They couldn’t bring me and Digby in there. So they had to get it somewhere to raid the RV of this nightmare. But how would they drive? Boy Person said he had to do it. He might not make it alive. But he had to try. And as he sat in that seat wondering what his life had come to and if this was how it was going to end, he thought how was he going to fix this.
Girl Person followed behind him, watching him swerve. And watching him contemplate just going over that bridge ahead. That would make cleanup easy. But somehow he made it back to camp. They were tired. They were mad. They were amazed that something like this could happen. What would they do? Where would they sleep? The fleas had the bed. Everyone’s bed.
They called family. Asked if they could stay the night. Everyone was sick. They could not tell them about the flea Apocalypse. How big of an emergency this was.
They would never let them in their houses anyway. They decided they would have to deal with this apocalypse. They needed to pull it together. They went to a 24 hour store. I think they should have went to a flea market, but that’s my opinion.
They loaded up their cart with anything and everything fleas hated. Vinegar. Soap. Organic whatever. This had to work. They spent all night and all morning trying to interrupt The Flea Apocalypse. They made an announcement it was last call.
I can’t tell you what happened the rest of the night cause it wasn’t pretty. Neither were the persons or the RV. And in many ways, they knew this secret had to stay with them forever. Until now. If you can picture this debacle and a million fleas driving on Boy Person as he tries to blast heavy metal music cause he thinks fleas may not like that, you get the picture of The Flea Apocalypse.
Were there any fleas when me and Digby got home? No flea was left. No flea could stand the crying anymore. They had had their fun. Their party. They had taken over the world. But in the end, they couldn’t take away the memories.
Things may seem dire sometimes. But do we find the humor? Maybe not at the time. But years later, we may laugh. Really. Even over The Flea Apocalypse.
–Peanut Butter Brickle