
I sit in small park that contains remnants of the old Chateau de Roissey-en-France in contemplative mood. I await my flight out of CDG, heading back to what is regretfully becoming my second home in America. The arch, all that is left of grand castle that once rose proudly out of ombre du Paris, carries with it in its own shadow memories of even older secret societies. Societies of which I, Pierre, once belonged.
Thinking of them conjures images of strange and enticing rituals, the strange smell of exotic incense burning as we clothe ourselves in animal skins. We emerge from behind luxurious curtains of bright colored silks, raising chalices of intoxicating liquids and howl towards moon like beasts.

Another, more pedestrian howl, one of airplane coming in for landing, breaks me from this reminiscence and reminds me of how ordinary life has become. Much has changed in the decades since, and now I find myself having to deal with loudmouthed boors from across the sea far too regularly. Even now they call for my help in solving simple problem of pest eating wood in wall of one of my many stateside holdings. They have tried everything, they say, for months, they say.
One of many things the baboonish people of the Americas have been wrong about for decades was the character of the Frenchman; they call us, the ‘cheese eating surrender monkeys’. In reality, the Frenchman has a soul of deep, burning desire for violence against his enemies, with an equal burning desire for love towards his friends, lovers, and preferred local fromagiers.
A powerful and invigorating battle is something every Frenchman secretly desires, and I have set my mind to making economic war against such arrogance as displayed by the Americans. First, I must rid my establishment’s walls of this crawling menace. In this, I refuse to surrender one more bite of sawdust to these red headed abominations!
For this task, I turned to Google to search for local pest control companies that had names as powerful as my visions of conquest in this land of paupers; it lead me to Grand Oaks Termite Control. The word ‘grand’ would have to do. As I entered the airport, I directed my secretary in the states to set up the appointment, as I planned to get uproariously drunk before boarding my plane and would have no time.

By the time I stepped off my second plane (I was kicked off the first), the appointment for inspections had already been made and carried out. A full invasion had been carried out by the little monsters, and we would need to burn and salt the earth to ensure their defeat. The Americans assured me that burning down the property was not actually necessary, but I will believe them when they have finished tenting the building and I personally inspect every wall.
If, like myself, you find yourself in need of full defense against the American termite menace and are looking for a termite treatment in La Verne, give Grand Oaks Termite Control a call. They appear to know what they’re doing, which is more than can be said of my staff:
Grand Oaks Termite Control
(626) 538-4156
110 S Worthy Dr, Glendora, CA 91741
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