I hate ants.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Ugh. Ants. I hate 'em. Recently, we’ve been having a problem with these wee, itsy teeny ants. For the most part, we’ve eliminated them by washing down the walls where they’ve made their little trails, removing food sources, and attacking them with the Dyson. However, once in a while, they make an appearance.

So, today, I’m taking a shower. I gave my knee a pretty good thwacking the other day when my husband and I visited the Pacific Science Center as we exited the lame-o simulator (shoulda picked the Blue Angels ride, that moon rollercoaster was nowhere near as cool as I’d hoped it would be… plus it was hot in there - no wind blowing in your face! What kind of simulator has no wind blowing in your face?) Anyway, I rammed my knee into a hunk of metal as I got out, tears sprung to my eyes, and I howled and hobbled about as a good wuss should. Apparently, though, I did give it quite a wallop, as that was two days ago, and it’s still throbbing like hell. Anyway, because of this and in spite of the warm weather, I decided I’d better than a hot shower. Lots of steam.

So, I’m happily scrubbing and singing off key in the shower (Istanbul (not Constantinople) for the curious), when I look up at the ceiling and see an ant. (those are bubbles, by the way.) I start thinking about this ant. He’s just slowly crawling along, doing his thing. Huh. I do a little ant dance. Actually, it’s more of ant shuffle, since I don’t want to slip and fall. Adam Ant would be proud.

I look back up at the ant. I start thinking about all the steam rising around me, and that little ant’s hold on the ceiling. I start thinking of steaming envelopes to make them open. I start thinking harder about that tiny ant’s tenacious hold on the ceiling. Steam is billowing around him. He is directly over my head now. I start singing:

“Ants! (ANTS!) They’re falling from the skyyyyyyyyyy-eeeeeeeee-yyyyyyyy!
Ants! (ANTS!) They fall into my eyeYAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

For, you see, as I am formulating this brilliant little broadway tune, the ant lost his grip on the ceiling and fell towards my eye.

I panic, freak out, scream, invent a few new dance moves, and scrub myself furiously under the hot water. Eventually, I look down, and there he is in the water pooling around my feet. Ugh. Yeeeeeich.

I get out of there and towel off. I feel itchy. Stupid ant. Blech.

That is all.

2

10…9…8…7…

3

Do you have a gas stove? And some honey?

4

Can I just tell you how much I thoroughly enjoyed that story?

This was my favorite part.
Please, Anastasaeon, tell us another story? :smiley:

5

Obviously she (as most ants you see are ‘she’) was an ant of superior intellect and understood your singing. Unfortunately, she misunderstood your semisensical singing for a wish and was only trying to oblige.

That’s gratitude for ya.

6

Why didn’t you squash 'im?

7

[Pedantry]There shouldn’t be wind blowing in your face if it’s a simulation of a rollercoaster on the moon (or anywhere else in space).[/Pedantry]

Amen to that! The last apartment I lived in had a problem with ant infestations in the winter, and it well and truly sucked.

8

:smack: Of course. Not thinking straight today. My aching knee is distracting me. Yeah. That’s it. :stuck_out_tongue:

And the ant was likely a she. However, in my mind it was an “it”, and “it” by default in my mind becomes “he”. It drifted through my mind that the worker was probably a she, but when it comes to squishy things I can squish with my squisher, I forget. Especially if they fall into my eye. I should be glad it wasn’t into my fat mouth.

Also, I didn’t squish it because it was in the water. And… I… didn’t want… ant water. Or something. I figure she’ll go down the drain to a better place.

The sewer is ant and goldfish heaven, right? I’m pretty sure it says so in the Bible somewhere.

Large Marge, I used to have a bunch of posts that involved my “alter ego” 'toons, but the links broke and I lost the old pictures. Cisco brings them up now and again, but they’re just not the same without the illustrations. :frowning:

9

's all your fault for showering with the lights on, and singing. If you’d kept your eyes closed, and just been Whistling In The Dark instead, you could have skipped all this trauma entirely :smiley: Was the ant at least one of the little bitty ones? Cause if it was one of those Giants, that would really suck :slight_smile:

I hateHateHATE ants in the house. Especially in the bathroom. The kitchen is downstairs, dagnabbit. WTF is with these ants heading up to the master bathroom 2 floors above the ground and a long way away from the food supply??? They’ve done this at the last two houses we’ve lived in :confused:

10

If you put this in The Pit it would be an Ant Rant! :smiley: Sorry. Couldn’t resist.

11

Some kind of ants are attracted by food, some by grease, and some are just after water. The teeny, tiny Argentinian ants tend to hang around sinks and bathrooms. I’ve had good luck getting rid of them with ant baits.

12

Loved the story and the illustrations, Anastasaeon. Please do one about gnats next. Annoying, annoying little gnats.

13

I can’t believe nobody has said it yet, but I, for one, welcome our new insect overlords…

Your story was great. The mouseart was a nice touch too. It sent tingles of sympathetic horror down my spine.

It recalled to me the time I totally freaked when a huge spider ran across my computer desk about 10 years ago…

I quickly snatched up an envelope from some junk mail credit card offer I had lying around, and smashed it. I spent a few moments peering in fascinated disgust at its enormous, balled up body and curled up legs lying there, leaving a little wet spot around it on the table… I decided I should get a wet paper towel to clean it off the table, but only after I finished writing my posting to a USENET group. (I did say this was 10 years ago.)

After 5 or 10 minutes I went to the kitchen, got the wet paper towel, and came back.

The instant the wet towel touched the spider it uncoiled, and ran right up my arm! (This would be the part where I “totally freaked”, as mentioned earlier. And justifiably so!)

I screamed, jerked back, and flailed and twitched around in a jerky circle like a crack addict playing Solo 3D Twister. The spider ran off under the bed. I never did see it again. For days I had visions of it plotting revenge and biding its time.

An interesting thing is that I shouted out in Mandarin Chinese (a sentence to the effect of “OMG it’s still alive!”), which I spoke at home with my parents growing up. At the time this happened I had moved out of my parents’ house over 6 years ago, and was living with my girlfriend, who did not speak Chinese. I guess the terror was so profound that I flashed back to a childhood state of mind.