Let’s talk about why ants are the bastard children of the insect world. I don’t care if that makes any sense. I’m pissed.
Not only are they sugar addicts who multiply on an ant super-highway in mere hours upon finding a morsel of food in your kitchen, but they are annoyingly intelligent.
They can lift 10 times their weight, spit trails of acid from their rump to tell the others where to go, and are impossible to get rid of. They literally live to mock the existence of the human race. I’m positive of this.
We came home from a few days away from the place to see a few hundred of these hellish beasts swarming over some left-over food in the trash. I stood for a second to observe a single-file moving black line down the can, along the floorboard, behind the computer desk, making a perfect 45 degree split towards the bathroom, left turn up the cabinet where they crawled in mass numbers into some secret lair where I assume a glutenous whore queen ant was screwing non-stop to grow the army.
I began to fantasize about the options on how I could exterminate the nest. Not just kill but torture- a slow death. After all they were in OUR home eating OUR left-overs. How dare they.
The napalm of ant spray glided over the highway and quickly shriveled the specs. I imagined if I were an ant I would hear blood-curdling screams as family members perished.
Once we wiped the black line off the wall and floor I smirked, happy to get rid of the un-welcomed guests. We spent an hour removing everything near the old highway, cleaned, sprayed, and meticulously denied them of any future feasts. There was nothing left for them here. A barren waste land.
Then weeks go by…
A small group apparently survived my attack.
In the morning as I brush my teeth I will feel something on my foot. A single freaking ant making its happy way through my foot hair. Just another beautiful day for him. I kill it.
Sitting on the couch watching tv out of the corner of my eye. A single freaking ant marching proudly over the arm rest like he just won the lottery. I squish it.
Pouring a bowl of cereal on a saturday afternoon. A single freaking ant on the counter looks up at me shaking its feelers. I smash it immediately with my thumb.
There is no nest, there is no highway. Just kamikaze soldiers sent out from some satellite hub to make sure I know that somewhere, somehow, they still exist.
So I leave you with this: To any ants who find pleasure in their meaningless lives to make me go insane. You may have won a few battles but this war is not over. Be certain of one thing, you show yourself and you will suffer!!!