Moles 3-4 Me (F)

3 days without any new molehills, have I finally vanquished you?  I hereby declare victory.  I was able to crush your second front – the  wasp’s nest – effortlessly like the Undead crushed the Dothraki in the Battle of Winterfell.  Half a can of wasp spray and then covering the entry hole to the nest with some leftover tile seemed to result in momentary chaos and then an emphatic lack of activity.  But then you countered with a commendable blitz of activity, the likes of which have never been seen on the battlefield before.  In the course of one night, 8 new molehills popped up.  Yes, 8.  A stunning show of defiance – but it wasn’t enough as by then I had brought in reinforcements.  My landlord got involved in the fight – and brought with him the tool that would finally turn the tide of war.  A trowel.  Suddenly I was able to dig through your defenses and more precisely locate the tunnels from which you have been taunting me – and now there is no way you couldn’t see the tasty poisoned treats I left there for you, this time not covered with collapsed earth.   So your remains presumably lie rotting somewhere underground – like the battlefield remains of the young in the First World War, you are gone but not forgotten.  Or maybe you’ve just relocated to my landlord’s yard, where I saw some new molehills have appeared.  Either way, it is not my war any more.  Don’t come back – you lost, and you would dishonor the memory of the fallen.