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Who’s Ojectionable?

Narrator:

A group of Cryptolaemus montrouzieri beetles are being transported by a common courier to an interiorscape firm for release in a bank’s interior plantscape. The beetles are not yet happy about this turn of events in their lives.

Beetles:

We’ve been shivering and bouncing around for close to a day now. Two more days of this and we’ll be goners for sure. The guy who put us in this box told us to take care. He said: “By this time tomorrow, little beetles, you’ll be in paradise.” We sure do hope he was being sincere, but we are beginning to have our doubts. He put us in a little plastic jar, which made most of us pretty nervous, but then he fed us this incredible tasting pate which made things seem okay again. Nevertheless, our fate remains in question.

Narrator:

That’s how it started for the beetles. In a jar, covered with bubble-wrap and ice packs, all sealed tightly in a styrofoam box. It seemed as if they were doomed. Bouncing around-forever. Then it happened: the motion stopped and someone began to open the parcel. The beetles could hear a heavy scratching sound. Light poured into the box as the lid was removed. They were not doomed-yet. A new day dawned for the beetles as the plant-care people took receipt over one-thousand miles away. How long was their journey? Well it did seem to begin just yesterday.

Beetles:

It’s so bright! Everybody’s oohing and aahing over us, like they’ve never seen a bunch of beetles before. One of the people called us Crypts; they know our nickname. Weird, how’d they know? We really like it when they call us Mealybug Destroyers. Now where are we going? Again? Back in the box, man. We’re bouncing around, still shivering, and here we go again, to points unknown. That box-packing guy and his “paradise.” Liar, liar, liar! Is this our fate?

Narrator:

Again in transit, the beetles continue their journey. The group is really nervous now. There is no more pate and the collective tummy is beginning to grumble. The beetles will be okay. They are on their way to one of the interiorscape specialists’ accounts: a bank. It probably doesn’t sound much like paradise, but things really are looking up for the little guys.

Beetles:

The box is being opened again. Bright lights and warmer temperatures. What now? Looking around the jar one can see everyone is visibly relieved-just from the comfort level of our new surroundings. Some of us have begun to contentedly lay on our backs while twirling little wads of paper between our three pairs of feet. Boring. Suddenly a cry of alarm was released in our jar. One of the group let out a bloodcurdling scream. Following his terrified gaze, we saw what was so frightening to him, recognized the apparition and canceled the alarm. The hideous, creature which had caused us such a fright was just a distorted-looking bald guy with really thick glasses staring at us closely through the jar’s plastic walls. Once we realized the apparition was benign we were quite relieved. In fact we started to laugh.

Narrator:

Behind the beetles, had they chosen to look around instead of being so taken by the banker oogling at them, was a beautiful interiorscape planting. Everything from palms to pothos. Moreover, they were covered with mealybugs. This truly was the paradise of which the beetles were told.

Banker:

“I’m not so sure letting a bunch beetles loose in my bank is going to end my bug problems. I’m afraid the customers will complain. Or my tellers might scream at the sight of them. Or they might get into the computer system. They might be objectionable. Would they? Could they?”

Interiorscaper:

“It will. They won’t. They won’t even notice. We should educate your tellers. Unless your computer system has mealybugs, they wouldn’t be interested. Objectionable I doubt. No they won’t. No they can’t.”

Beetles:

“Hey. Lookit dat,” we heard from behind us. We turned automatically to Fred, a big, silly-looking beetle not known for his intellect. Fred was drooling like an idiot staring through the opposite side of the jar. We craned our necks to look, but figured Fred was just looking at his reflection or something equally foolish, and didn’t expect to see anything worthwhile. But that’s when we, too, saw it and realized Fred was on to something big this time: lush, green foliage sprinkled to perfection with an abundance of mealybug, like powdered sugar sprinkled on a doughnut. Ahh, ripe for the picking. Suddenly we all knew our fate, our purpose, our destination. We cursed ourselves for calling that box-packing guy a liar, vowing never again to be so rash. In unison we cried out: “Free us! Let us savor our paradise, mister thick-lenses. Please let us out.”

Banker:

“I know you’ve always done well by me. You’re a good interiorscaper. A pro. But I just don’t know. They seem, er, like they could be objectionable.”

Interiorscaper:

“If I had a bank, knowing what I know, I’d put them in without hesitation.”

Beetles:

We heard that thick-lenses guy question our abilities. He asked if we’d be objectionable. What in the heck is that supposed to mean? Who’s objectionable? The guy that brought us here, the one who knew our nickname, tried to ease mister thick-lenses’ worries. Goggles is being a tough sale. “Give us a chance,” we hollered, but the jar’s thick plastic muffled our pleas. We then released a collective sigh as our hopes of freedom were being dashed. The feeling of despair began to wane, though, as hope began to shine again. Our spirits were brightening. The banker decided to introduce us to the “girls.”

Banker:

“I’ll tell you what, let’s introduce the beetles to the girls. If the tellers are okay with it then I guess we’ll give it a go.”

Interiorscaper:

“Cool. Let’s go. Lead the way.”

Narrator:

The tellers gathered around the jar as the interiorscaper explained the beetles’ function. He told them the beetles were just little black ladybugs with orange heads who have an appetite for mealybugs. The tellers thought they were kind of cute. A few were squeamish about the prospect of beetles in the bank where they worked, but the majority of the tellers, applying peer pressure and a dose of the pros and cons of pesticides made the reluctant few see the light. The interiorscaper confirmed the bit about pesticides being the only other viable alternative, then added that they hadn’t worked in the past in similar situations. He waited for the final decision from the banker. The tellers were sold. And the banker?

Banker:

“Okay. Let’s do it before I change my mind.”

Beetles:

We shouted with unbridled glee as the lid was removed from the jar and we were allowed to take flight into paradise. Fred, the not-so-smart beetle, shot right through the crowd, past the mealybugs, over the foliage, beyond the planting and into the sun. Or he would have if there wasn’t a window in his way. As it was, he smacked his head pretty hard against a very large, very clean, south-facing plate-glass window. The rest of us laughed so hard we almost collapsed right there on the branch we were released on. Fred would be back, we knew. There’s always one or two beetles like Fred in every crowd. Some of us didn’t survive the journey. A couple were sick en route. A couple more passed on-their spirits, hopefully, are busy exploring a different kind of paradise. The rest of us? Well, we ate, and ate, and ate: mealybug gumbo, mealybug stew, mealybug cocktails, mealybug soup, fried mealybugs, braised mealybugs — well, you get the idea.

Four Weeks Later?

Beetles:

Last week another group of beetles joined our little community. They, too, were shipped from abroad. The newcomers aren’t having it as well as we did only a few weeks before. Many of the mealybugs are gone now. The mealybugs are off to, yet, even another kind of paradise: our swollen bellies. Our kids are running around with the vigor and enthusiasm which only the young can exude. Us, the original group, the pioneers, the pilgrims, we are reaching our golden years. We’ve had good lives, and our kids will probably be okay, but we now fear for our grandchildren. We were selfish eating as many mealybugs as we did. And now the new group which came in is following our lead-eating everything in sight. We’re afraid there will be no more food after very long. Most of our kin, we’re hopeful, will be able to flee to better lands, but many, we fear, will die. Obviously the only things the plant-care guy and goggle-eyes care about is that the mealybugs disappear for a good long time. It’s why they sent another group of beetles here. They don’t care about us at all. Slighted, the beetles began to eat more mealybugs-this time out of depression.

Narrator:

The banker held out his hand to the interiorscaper as he walked through the door during one of his weekly visits. On his face was a warm and generous smile. [Hard to imagine, I know.]

Banker:

“The beetles,” the banker confesses “did a really great job. They stay out of sight, don’t bother the girls, and have not even been noticed by our customers. And they haven’t even gotten into the computer system. They aren’t a bit objectionable.” Then he adds, “Moreover, the plants actually look better than they ever did, not filmy looking and reeking of pesticides like the tropical plants at the mall down the street.”

Interiorscaper:

Smiling all-knowingly, he asks, “Do you mean The Grand Mall?” Another potential customers, he thinks.

Narrator:

The banker nods affirmatively to the interiorscaper’s question. The two men, side by side, head towards the banker’s office to attend to some financial matters. The interiorscaper takes this opportunity to mention that he noticed some spider mites on some Topsiders full of ivies.

Interiorscaper:

“Not many at all. Just a small flare up.” Confidently he adds, “I can get some predatory mites to take care of them if you’d like.”

Narrator:

Knowing that this stuff works and isn’t a bit objectionable, the banker nods approvingly to the interiorscaper’s next foray into the science of biological pest control.

Filed under Anecdotes —

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