I sat gazing out the front window of my home office, the window that lets me see what’s happening up and down and across the street and even at McDonald’s, trying hard to come up with an idea for a newspaper column.
A young man I’d never seen before was knocking on my across-the-street neighbor’s door. After some time, the neighbor answered and stepped out onto the porch. They shook hands and stood talking for a few minutes. Then the young man left and went and knocked on the front door of the next house and the next and on and on until I couldn’t see him any longer.
I continued to try to think of something to write about.
Giving up, I went outside to fill the birdfeeder and noticed that cobwebs, as they’re wont to do, had taken over my carport. I lifted the beat-up straw broom from its nail on the wall and was reaching to attack a particularly large web way up under the eaves when I noticed the aforementioned young man, a big grin plastered on his face, approaching. Embroidered on his polo shirt was the name of a pest control company I’d never heard of. I shifted the broom ever so slightly in my hands so that I was holding it like a baseball bat instead of a cobweb destroyer.
The young man, who seemed not the least bit intimidated by my makeshift weapon, strolled right up onto the driveway and stuck out his hand. Deciding that he probably wasn’t an ax murderer out and about in this quiet neighborhood in the middle of a summer afternoon, I leaned the broom against the wall and shook his hand.
“I’m Jason (I made this name up) with Freddy’s (I made this name up, too) Pest Control Company,” he said. “I see you have a spider problem.”
“They’re no problem as long as I come out here every day and knock the webs down,” I said.
“If you’ll give Freddy’s a chance to service your home, we can eliminate spiders as well as a whole lot of other pests,” he said. Then he began to name the pests he could get rid of. I noticed right away that he didn’t mention ants, which are the greatest pestilence of my life and which I know for a fact that no exterminator on earth can get rid of, but I didn’t bring that up.
“I’m anti-poison,” I told him. I gestured toward the zinnia bed that stretches the length of my back yard fence and to my bird feeder and bird bath. “I’m trying to save the pollinators.”
Jason looked a little puzzled.
“You know…birds, bees, butterflies, lightning bugs…” I said.
He smiled and nodded. “I assure you our pest control products are safe for humans as well as pets and pollinators,” he said.
“I’m not interested,” I said. “But thanks.”
My dog was taking in every word of this conversation from a spot in the back yard near the carport. Jason, clearly not yet ready to give up, spotted her. “Okay if I pet your dog?” he asked. I shrugged and nodded. He stuck his fingers through the chain link and stroked her left ear. Then he said this: “Okay if I go inside the fence? I love dogs.”
That’s when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Perhaps he wasn’t just a young man trying to eke out a living as a door-to-door poison salesman but was actually casing the neighborhood with ill intent. Maybe he was even an ax murderer. I reached for my broom.
“I wouldn’t try that if I were you, Jason,” I said. “She looks friendly, but that dog could tear your face off if you make a wrong move.”
Jason’s eyes grew wide and he backed away. “Good luck with your pollinators,” he said.
I thanked him and hung the broom back on its nail. Then I went inside and wrote the story you just read.
(August 8, 2026)