I had been gone for a couple of days, and when I opened the door to my garage, I smelled a horrific smell. Being that the garbage can was directly in front of me, I assumed it was that. Upon closer inspection, I discovered, much to my horror, that the garbage bag in there was MOVING. It made me think of Poltergeist and the chicken leg incident. There was a veritable metropolis in this bag of garbage. So gross!
I weighed my options – I think bleach, blowtorch – then I decide I’d drown them because, and yes I actually said this out loud, “Best way to go.” So I drag the can out to the hose, in the front yard, and I just put the hose into the can and left it on for awhile. What began to happen was the writhing garbage bag was raising itself up to the top of the can. I decided to “woman up” and grab that bag, shake it and put it on the ground. One landed on my leg – I wanted to throw up but I kept it together.
So now, I have a pile of garbage in my front yard in a tattered white bag, and a garbage can full of water and SWIMMING MAGGOTS. Some had little Mai Tais and some were doing synchronized acts, some were spelling out, “WE WILL SURVIVE.” I then decided, well, I was just going to let them stay in there and have Nate handle it when he got home 4 hours later.
I (gag) picked up the garbage from my yard – who knew maggots liked cantaloupe so damn much?!? I then put it all in another (black) hefty bag. Yes, there was still movement – I believe I had reduced their metropolis to a small town, but there’s only so much one reluctant maggot wrangler can do. I had flies flying around me which I found to be interesting – who knew that flies cared about their nasty little larvae? Mother flies were wringing their hands and buzzing encouragement to them, I imagine. As I gazed at the 2ftx2ft round pancake of swimming maggots I swore off Rice A Roni, the San Francisco Treat, for life.
I then went about organizing and cleaning and rearranging the garage and the shed – the smell from the decomposition of the garbage lingered awhile, but I think I went nose blind to it. About 4 hours later, Nate came home, and I went to get groceries. I forgot to tell him about the maggots. When I parked the car in the store parking lot, I sent him the following text:
I got no response, which I thought was curious, because Nate is not big on gross stuff. He gags a lot. Maggots are especially gag inducing for him. I figured I’d get at least a WTF? text or something. However, I did all my shopping and still didn’t hear from him. I had a Reese’s cup waiting for me to want it, on top of the cookie jar, for 2 days, and apparently, Nate had found it, because he sent this text:
Obviously, the Reese’s Cup was not safe in this situation – it is Nate’s favorite candy. I haven’t been eating many sweets lately. So I said:
He had no idea what I was talking about. He just wanted the Reese’s Cup.
I finished checking out, and received a call from him. This is what he said, “How did a situation like this come to pass?” LOL, Nate, he’s so calm, cool and collected. I described the horrific events leading to the maggot pool. I asked if they were still alive, and he said that yes, they were all still alive, wriggling around in there, floating on the “chicken”. I said, “WHAT CHICKEN?!” Thinking perhaps the fly parents had somehow dropped chicken in there through a miraculous group effort. Then I remembered that I had thrown some parasitic fungi in there – these gross mushroom type things – sticky and orange, they’re killing my marigolds. So he went into detail about how they were going in and out of the “chicken” and having a grand old time. I told him I didn’t want to bleach them because I didn’t want to poison the ground water, and he’d have to lug them around back to the woods or something, and although I could hear him beginning to gag, I wished him well and hung up.
When I got home, he was a bit pale – he said he buried them in an Indian burial ground and did some ritual dances and chants. I hope that was a good Reese’s cup! LOL!