Meeting the Mafia in Memphis

Me again, your favorite celebrity flea reporter, checking in from the road on my cross-country Flea Season 2012 tour. I promised to keep you posted (get it? It’s a blog – ah, you gotta love flea humor!) and so I’m givin a shout out to all of my adoring fans from the red-hot, barbeque-flavored favorite of the South, Memphis, Tennessee. This might be the home of the blues, but I’ll tell you what kinda blues a flea doesn’t have here – the red blooded blues. Plenty of dogs, cats and ankles in sandals means a whole lotta skin to bite and blood to drink.

If you’re a bug (or a person) that loves hot and steamy, come on down to Memphis. You combine this swampy, sweaty weather with the music scene down on Beale Street and the local lady action, and you have yourself one town I’d be happy to call home – for me and my hundreds of thousands of little flea offspring.

Back to the food. That sweet, sweet Memphis barbeque.  Myself, I don’t eat meat – I’m just into the blood. But have you ever had a nice long sip of the red from a dog that just ate a stolen rib? Smokey, sweet and to die for. While I’ve been down here, I’ve tried to lobby the World Champion Barbecue Cooking Contest to include barbecued blood as competition, but they won’t budge. It’s a shame, I’m tellin ya. With the millions of fleas (not to mention ticks) down here, you need to open up to the possibilities, World Champion Barbeque Cooking Contest people!

Speaking of ticks, I got some inside information for you. Normally I wouldn’t squeal on my sources, but in this case it’s important. It started last Saturday night. I was all decked out. Shined up my legs, brushed my biting parts (nothing worse than specks of blood in your biter when you’re tryin to charm the ladies), donned on my dancing shoes (I’m kidding! You know fleas don’t wear shoes – they slow us down when we jump) and headed down to hear some local tunes. The only thing better than the cover bands playing Elvis and Johnny Cash were, and I’m not lyin, the ladies.

They were dressed like multi-legged swimsuit models in their bikinis. Why bikinis? We bugs like to travel light, and when you got it, you flaunt it. Speaking of havin it, I met one very special lady. Her name is Tellula. She’s a Southern vixen that’s all curve and biting mouth parts. She’d cartoon tick in a bikinijust had a huge blood meal, so she was about 10 times her normal size and was fillin that bikini out just right. I’m sharing her picture here in this post. Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin. But he’s a flea! She’s a tick! It’ll never work. I’ve told you already, I’m a real flea’s flea. I don’t have time for long term commitments. Too many cats to climb and canines to crunch on. So at least for Saturday, Tellula was Miss Right (now.)

After a few rounds of the dance floor (she’s like J. Lo with eight legs when she dances, I swear!) my own legs needed a rest. So we settled into a corner near some rotting wood, on the romantic edge of a dank puddle from a leaky air conditioner (told you, this place is like paradise) and chatted. Sitting down, it didn’t matter that I’m only 2 millimeters tall and she’s ten times that height after a blood meal. (Hey, don’t you judge me. I like ‘em tall. My first love had long, long legs. Of course, when I found out it was a daddy long legs, I had to hit the road.)

So on to the heavy stuff. (News, that is – fleas don’t kiss and tell.) Tellula’s part of this nationwide family that’s got a lot of power. I’m not gonna use the term bug mafia, because I don’t want to wake up to a dead little sardine wrapped in a tiny piece of newspaper at my front door. But, you decide for yourself. The family controls the woods in most states and they’re gainin ground, she says. It’s quite a racket. They suck the blood out of pets and people (and, not to talk against la familia, but they sound a lot greedier than fleas. If her ability to eat is any indication.)

So Tellula tells me that this year’s the year they’re coming out strong. They’re expandin the racket and movin outta the woods, into the suburbs. Into the school yards. It’s gonna be a blood bath. It isn’t just Tellula whose sayin this. The Wall Street Journal’s even onto this clan. And these aren’t small time bugs. There’s a big payoff. It ain’t just about a quick bite here or there. No, they got a bigger piece of action. They’re runnin’ diseases. Yep. Not just suckin’ blood, but runnin’ diseases from coast-to-coast. Lyme, tulerimia, Rocky Mountain spotted fever. All kindsa crazy stuff.

Here’s the rub. If I stick with Tellula, I can get in on this racket. But there’s a couple of problems. First, I’d have to stick with one lady. And as succulent as she is, and as sharp as her biting mouth parts are, I’m not sure even that plump princess can make an honest flea outta me. But the biggest danger is this. They’re bein pursued. The ticks.

It’s like Al Capone and Elliot Ness.

But this enemy ain’t named Elliot, and it ain’t carryin a gun. It’s named Fiproguard (last name MAX) and it’s all out warfare, from the sounds of it. Ticks dyin off right and left. They’re clearin out whole houses and neighborhoods. And, it kills fleas. (And yeah, I’m not too proud to admit it. I threw up a little in my thorax when I typed that. Fleas feel fear, man.)

It comes down to this: go with the gal, join the family and maybe become the kingpin of bloodsucking, or play it safe, keep my playboy status and stay away from this Fiproguard MAX character. Tough call here in Memphis, folks.

So whaddaya think? I need advice.

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