ANTS

oh shit. It's that time of year again.


I thought I saw one in my kitchen. and then I realized that I didn't see one; I SAW TEN.

. . .ANTS.


(The above would be a wonderful intro into a horror movie about ants)


Since I have been in fifth grade, I have had two major fears: spontaneous human combustion. . . and ants. My fear of ants, I feel, is quite logical (or at least more logical than the fat lady on Maury who is afraid of kittens and aluminum foil)


There are 10,000 trillion ants in the world: approximately one million ants to every human, and an ant can lift fifty times its body weight. Hypothetically, it would only take four million ants to carry a man (and if ants get super strength when they are mad, like humans [in the movies and in lifetime tv shows] do, maybe even less)



Ever since my youth i have been stomping on these suckers, spraying them with Windex, making my cats eat them, finding any way to efficiently kill them. They always looked shifty to me; clearly I have excellent judgment when it comes to insects.


This activity could, quite possibly, cause the MIB (Men In Black for the n00bz) effect: ants enraged, directing said rage at yours truly. If the ant community knows of my utter disdain for spindly little six-legged bodies and they all find a way of communicating (which they probably already have), I am so screwed.



Over a million ants live in a colony. What if the Windex Colony and the Kitty Colony have spoken and have taken out a hit, already?



The way ants follow each other? . . . TRAIL OF URINE. Great. They are going to piss all over me and then kill me.

My exterminator told me this (at least there are a few people who are going to be ahead of me on the hit list).



ANOTHER SCARY THOUGHT: The slave-maker ant. Named because it invades the nest of other ants and steals their fetus ant-lets. Once the "pupae" hatch, they are made to work as slaves at the colony of the slave-maker.


. . . if I decide to repopulate (yeah, right) I should not be surprised if an ant swoops in to steal baby Gwen Jr. to turn her into ant slave? I AM SO, SO DONE FOR (actually, she is done for, and i guess it serves me right, for trying to pass on my DNA).


I'm just saying, we, as humans, have been trying to get this little pest to leave our picnics for years, and we have been unsuccessful as of yet. The tables on the economy turned . . . what if our relationship with ants is next?


Some say the world will end in fire[ANTS],
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire[ANTS]...


maybe Robert Frost's work was censored to keep human kind in the dark about the end of days.




What if MIB was right, and bugs really are related to aliens? They helped us build the pyramids, and we show them thanks by having people whose entire profession is dedicated to the eradication of "pests."


GOOD GAME, WORLD.


It has been great run, but there is no way I am sticking around for the sick, twisted activities the aliens/ants are going to put us through. When the UFO lands, you'll find me hightailing it to Antarctica (Ants are never during the winter, right?)



Word to the wise: When you see Polyergus Rufescens (the slave-ant), TURN. AND. RUN.

Save your posterity the trouble and sterilize your children

g$