*Ahem,* child of mine who might be reading this, I am officially requesting the Rodenator as my Father’s Day Gift.

I am even offering financial support in your acquisition of the awesome Rodenator. The Sixty Explosive Stimulus we shall call it.

I don’t need one, we don’t have burrowing rodents.

I just want one.

Squirrels are rodents, we have squirrels, burrowing rodents must be cousins. Must kill all rodents in as violent manner as possible!

Explosions! Dirt flying! This. Is. Awesome.

I would volunteer to take my Rodenator and do anybody’s yard. I would do all the local parks. If there was a hole in the ground I would insert my Rodenator and explode it.

This is the Father’s Day present every Father really wants. Really, really wants.

I understand the Spokane Humane Society is all up in arms about the possible use of the Rodenator on their rodents. Their disease ladden, ground bulging, mite ridden dirt rodents might die a painful death.

OK, in the spirit of the Obama’s, who promise to adopt a shelter dog, but instead gave money to the Humane Society, I will donate a nickel for every ground rat I kill to the local no-kill animal shelter.

Or, I will donate the exploded remains to the local food bank for rodent stew. It won’t be as good as Beaver Stew, but I don’t want to get wet killing beavers. Dirty? yes. More hearing loss? yes. Wet? nah.

Sixty, Rodenator Extraordinare, at your service. Have gas, will travel.