THE ANTS IN HER PANTS

‘Die you little bastard, DIE!’ I heard myself growl today as I hunched down on all fours. I could see him writhing in pain and it made me smile; I was on a mission to kill him and everyone like him and I was succeeding. I watched him struggle for his last pathetic breath and as his little life sputtered out, I grabbed the nearest cloth and squished his poison riddled body with all my might. I then turned my attention to the gang that had accompanied the little bugger and I let loose all of my pent up anger and frustration on them. I was a woman on a mission and I was not going to stop until every single one of them had been annihilated.

I hadn’t planned for my mission to become this violent but my opponents unfortunately left me with no other option. It began almost three weeks ago when I came back from spending the weekend at the Lad’s apartment to find that my home had been invaded by an army of black ants in my absence. Now I must tell you that I am an absolute animal lover, and this includes all manner of insects. The Lad simply laughs at me now when he sees me heading outside with a glass or a piece of paper in my hand because he knows that a creepy crawly is about to be set free; he tells me that I’m odd, but I just can’t help it. Ever since I can remember I have been the Go To Girl when my sisters or friends found themselves face to face with anything that moved fast and had four or more legs; I was the one carefully taking the offending creature out of the room while they screamed and squealed in disgust. I understand that my feelings of compassion for these creatures does make me a little odd but I couldn’t handle seeing them killed as a child and still can’t…or couldn’t. Funny how feelings can change so quickly.

For the last three weeks I have fought with these little buggers and I have to tell you that I have no compassion left. The standoff started in my kitchen cupboards where I found them happily munching away on my crackers, and it continued when they took over the cat food dish, the garbage can and the sink. Still having quite a bit of compassion left, I simply got out my trusty insect chalk and powder thinking that this would solve the problem. It didn’t. Instead of taking the hint to get the hell out of my kitchen the industrious little fuckers found their way into hallway closet and carpets and then moved quickly into my bedroom where they made themselves quite cozy in my underwear drawer.

I hate saying this, it makes me sound like I’m a hypocrite because I have been so vocal about the rights of animals, but I have come to the conclusion that some animals (meaning the black ant army currently holed up in my knickers drawer) are meant to be killed in whatever way possible. In the past I have done everything to avoid using RAID and other products like it because of the inhumane suffering it causes before the insect dies, but now I just don’t care. I want these ants out of my pants and I want them out now. I will use any and all means to rid myself and my cats of these vermin, and I will re-gain control of my apartment. I will be the Arnold Schwarzenegger of bug killers.
Just call me the ExTerminator.

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