Tick B Gone

I saw this post on BoingBoing about a tick remover called a Tick Twister. It reminded me of a day when I was in 9th grade at my friend Christie's house "laying out". (She was always wanting to lie out in her backyard and suntan. It was boring, but we couldn't drive anywhere, so our entertainment options were limited.) So we were lying on towels on the grass and I was toasting to a nice rosy crimson when the phone rang. Her Dad hollered at us that my brother was on the phone. My brother was about 10 or 11 and was usually glued to his Nintendo, so I couldn't imagine what would tear him away to talk to me, his least favorite person. I asked him, in not a very nice tone, mind you, what he wanted. He was crying and told me to come home quick. My brother has always been stoic, so I couldn't imagine what could have made him cry.

I raced up the hill to our house and burst in the door. His hair wasn't on fire and the house was still standing. He thrust his arm out for me to inspect. There was a fat, brown bug embedded in his upper arm. I figured it was a tick, but I didn't know how to get rid of it. I called Christie, because her family was from Kentucky and she was always talking about chiggers, so I thought maybe she would know what to do. She turned the phone over to her Dad. I asked him what to do to remove a tick. He said, and I quote, "Git a match and light it. Then ya blow it out. Then ya put the match on the tick and ya burn his ass." He emphasized the "burn his ass" part with a twisted satisfaction. I said okey doke, and thanked him.

I followed orders and my brother howled when I put the hot match on his arm, but we eventually extricated said tick from his skin. My brother recovered and never came down with Lyme's Disease, but we sure could have used a handy Tick Twister. Maybe I'll get him one for Christmas.