My friend Kiki is still having some bug and animal troubles now that she’s in Ohio. And when I say ‘some’ I mean ‘a lot’ and when I say ‘trouble’ I mean ‘1950’s horror movie’ level.

The zillions of mosquitoes that avoid Tom and the boys but find Kiki to be the most delicious dish on the planet are one thing. Doc Walt came up with a good salve and -- as long as Kiki doesn’t mind smelling like a sewer and looking like she tried a little too much instant tanner -- it works wonderfully.

But, Kiki has a bigger problem than mosquitoes. She has an anthill. A giant anthill. Filled with giant, flying ants.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Just pour some poison into the anthill and problem solved, right? Wrong.

They’ve tried that. So far, they’ve tried every poison Doc Walt, the superstores, the pet stores, the supermarkets, and the hardware stores have, and…nothing. Kiki pours the poisons in, the ants swallow it down, burp discreetly, and then fly out and around her head, presumably to thank her for the treat. Sometimes they get the mosquitoes to join in. Kiki says it’s kind of spectacular, in a really creepy, horrifying, itchy way.

Adding to this, Kiki’s younger son, Chad, has taken up the harmonica. She said it’s because he wanted to learn a musical instrument and last time they brought a guitar into the house, Maggie, Stoner Pooch, got a hold of it and, well, let’s just say that waiting for guitar strings to leave a dog’s digestive tract is something you only want to do once. Tom says it was something he could have lived with never having done at all.

So, it was a piano or a harmonica, and the harmonica was smaller, cheaper, and had the added benefit of keeping Chad, aka Chad the Chatterbox, from speaking while practicing. So, the whole family was congratulating themselves on a great solution to at least one of their myriad problems.

Thing is, Maggie doesn’t really care for the harmonica. Or she loves it, Kiki’s not sure. What she is sure of is that whenever Chad plays the harmonica, Maggie sings along. Well, howls along. Sometimes it sounds like pleasure, sometimes pain. Kiki thinks Maggie’s really trying to sing the blues, and who am I to argue?

So, to escape this, Kiki tends to trot outside and try to determine just how to rid her yard of the giant, flying ants.

Only, Chad likes to spend quality time with his mother, and the trampoline’s out there, too, and so he trots out to jump and play at the same time. He’s a talented boy, what can I say? Then Maggie comes out, too, and jumps, slides and howls. Even the ants and mosquitoes seem to enjoy it -- Kiki swears they fly in a sort of unison, like they’re dancing. It’s a regular hoedown. Tom calls it a flying circus, but then, he doesn’t go into the yard anymore.

Kiki’s considering dumping bleach down the anthill, but Doc Walt’s concerned that, should the ants eat it just like every other poison, the combination could cause mutation. Beyond what they already are, since Kiki’s measured them at an inch and a half each. Inch and a half flying ants are bad enough, but Kiki doesn’t want to be responsible for the Ants That Ate Ohio.

She was at her wit’s end, she told me, but then, inspiration struck. She now has Chad practice the harmonica outside, at all hours of the day and night. She’s videotaping, so she can determine which songs really get the flying circus creatures going. Once they find the right tune, or combination of tunes, she’s going to have Chad march down to the nuclear power plant, all Pied Piper of Ohio, to lead the bugs into a special room where they’ll be zapped out of existence. Or turned into Ohio’s Flying Army. Kiki figures either way, it’ll get the bugs out of her yard.

But, for all you concerned citizens out there, don’t worry -- Kiki bought Chad a beekeepers suit for protection ‘cause that’s the kind of good mom she is.