War on Dust Bunnies

Last Saturday afternoon I launched a house-wide offensive campaign. I called it “The War on Dustbunnies.” They started as mere immigrants, coming across the borders illegally on furniture, clothes, stinky dogs and unsuspecting cats. Soon, it became clear that there was an outright invasion on my hands. Furthermore, they were stealing jobs formerly reserved for resident household dirt. At the rate they were multiplying, they were probably hogging up birthing facilities, too. There was obviously an uprising forming underneath the island in the kitchen, and I shuddered to think might be hiding in the dark recesses of the “desert” area underneath the couch. I armed myself with a broom and things got ugly. The dustbunnies were restless and quickly tried to smite me with my own broom. They stared at me defiantly from every corner of every room. I was surrounded and outnumbered. The natives of the Arid region referred to as "Jeffrey’s Bathroom" were tired of being “bepissed,” to use a polite, old-English term. They appeared to have mutated from repeated exposure to toxic filth and had grown to previously unheard of proportions. Reliable intelligence sources indicated that they were also developing weapons of mass destruction. They were agitated and sought to retaliate for what they perceived to be an act of extreme disrespect in the form of a blasphemous, (not to mention badly drawn), representation of what is obviously the Dustbunny Messiah (see below).


Insulted at having been attacked on my own soil, I had no choice but to exterminate them with chemical weapons (floor cleaner) and heavy artillery (a broom and vacuum). However, the dust bunnies are a crafty bunch and the remnants of the original uprising are now hiding in remote regions of the basement, allying themselves with the new cat. Using his loveable, fluffy façade, they are tirelessly plotting another insurgency, using him as a “Trojan cat” to sneak in behind enemy lines in order to carry out their evil plan to stick to our socks and irritate our sinuses. We must be vigilant, friends, for dust bunnies never sleep.