“Excuse” Is Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose

I missed putting up a review today. You, the loyal reader, deserve a better excuse than “my personal life was crazy” or “I was crushed by the amount of work I had to do this week.” Frankly, you can get those kind of excuses anywhere, and we all know they’re lies, just excuses for being too lazy to put in the kind of quality work an unpaid “labor of love” deserves. So you get a better excuse. Like this one:

There’s a race of creatures, tiny but malevolent, that live among us. They have been with humanity for centuries unmeasured, lurking in the shadows, so old they don’t have a name. They hate us for stealing the sunlight they believe should be theirs, for gouging and cutting the woods and the dells they loved, back when their hearts were capable of love. They sour the milk, they tie the cat’s tail into knots, the prick the baby so that he screams in the night. Slowly they grow bolder, so that murder can’t be far from becoming a reality …

The reason I don’t have a review up today has nothing to do with them, though. I’m just wondering if anyone has any tips on how to get a particularly nasty infestation of the things out of the garden. I’ve tried poisons, setting the neighbor’s dog on them, bars of soap, and urinating on the little buggers, but they won’t go away. Any help?