Die, mites, die!

Once upon a time there were two beautiful rose bushes that sat on my windowsill. Then one day, before leaving for the weekend, I noticed a single strand of spider webbing on one and, removing it, though nothing more. When I returned, the two plants were cocooned in webbing and sucked dryer of nutrients than a keg at a frat party.After the proper mourning period elapsed, I again decided to brighten my existence with flora. Still too heartbroken to bring home flowers, I acquired a clipping from a pothos. I grew the plant in a jar along with my beta fish (named Alpha, natch). When the pothos was too big for its underwater home I relocated it to a planter and tenderly facilitated its adjustments. Now, after things seemed so settled and good, I happen to notice a couple of gnats hovering over the pothos. Dispatching them and examining my plant, I discovered that the topsoil was alive with mites. So I have slathered my beloved plant with insecticide and prepare to leave for another weekend away. Will I return to find my plant demolished by unwanted parasites? No. Because if I do, if some repulsive insects take another plant from me it will mean all out war and so help me I shall hunt down each and ever one of you disgusting little squatters and torture your microscopic bodies in ways that Dick Cheney would marvel at. I shall seek out your gods and bring upon them the fire of my hate (that’s right, gods, I know all about your heathen ways). Leave now, my uninvited guests. Don’t make me explain why pothos are also called devil’s ivy.