Hpm Wildlife Control

I used to look out the windows of airplanes and wonder. I could see the spread of humanity below, like a dull-coloured computer chip, self aware, blinking yellow, green, and red. What if, I thought, what if we were but a PEST on the earth? What if I could hire somebody to spray a chemical weapons-grade foam down over an entire city, covering roadways with up to 100 metres of sudsy death. Those out in the suburbs would feel safe, exiting their homes to see the frost covering their city. Unbeknownst to them, merely inhaling the vapours would cause their central nervous system to short circuit, jumbling the senses, making them think they could breathe through their eyes, taste with their ears, see with their skin. Then, an almost instantaneous collapse into an unrecognizable puddle of a person. A disturbingly psychedelic demise, to be sure.
This dystopian dream, however, is something I am disparagingly all too willing to inflict on the creatures around my home. What it says about me, or HPM Wildlife Control for that matter, I do not know. All I know is that my patio is safe... for now.

We hired them a year ago. Foolishly we paid for a years worth of service in advance and have not seen or heard from them since. Needless to say we will not renew our contract with them.