Monday, September 26, 2005
I returned home this weekend to find our apartment kitchen overrun with ants. Nothing too special, just your garden variety, tiny black ants. But they were marching an serious offensive on battlefields which were our cabinets. "Yeah, we've been using Weapons of Mass Destruction to fight them," my roommate John tells me as he points out the ant traps on the walls.Emboldened by my roommates' cunning and bravery, I grabbed a paper towel and became a WMD myself, wiping out hundreds of ants on our counter in one fell swoop. They didn't go down without a fight, though; several ants made their way onto my hands and were navigating through the jungle of arm hair towards my brain (which they were no doubtedly planning to eat).
While I was up in Seattle, Booter stumbled on the ants' newest front, the dishwater. Waging war on the leftovers falling off the plates inside, the relentless army was unaware of their impending doom. To quote Booter, "I went Moses on their asses." Little did the ants know that their gluttony would be their demise. Somehow I don't think they would have cared if they had known.
Despite these decisive blows, the war wages on. Until we can find their headquarters (or "nest", if you will) the ants will continue to fight with ceaseless élan until our kitchen is nothing but a huge anthill. Try as we might, peace is not an option. They must be destroyed!
DEATH TO THE ANTS!!
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