Monday, June 29, 2009


When I was a young girl I didn't like bugs. I wasn't afraid of them. Apparently, I just didn't LIKE them.

We had a screened-in porch at the front of our house. My mother used to lock imprison (I kid mom, I kid!) put my sister and I out there to play on summer days. One day she heard me yelling. As she moved through the house to see what I was up to, she could hear me shouting, "DIE! DIE!"

As she approached, I wonder if she thought I had my sister in a death grip. Maybe she imagined that I was beating her over the head with my Crissy doll. There was no one else with us, so what else could she be thinking? It had to have freaked her out some, I'm sure.

Anyway, she stepped out onto the cement floor and there I was; stomping on a pile of little black ants. I must have dropped some sort of sugary goodness on the ground and they were all over it. I had my fists clenched and was pounding them with my feet, still yelling at them to die.

And I wonder where my daughter gets her temperament. snort.

A few years later, I recall placing a large black ant in a small glass jar; one the size of a film canister. I then found an Earwig, or pincher bug, as I called it, and dropped it into the jar with the ant. Clearly, I was a sadistic child because I watched that pincher bug chase that ant for hours. I sat patiently waiting to see if he'd catch him in his forcep-like clutches.

I think my parents worried I might grow up to be a serial killer. Or an exterminator.

So, let's jump to the present, shall we?

I've got news for you. Those damn ants, they don't forget. I'm telling you, they have tracked me down and are now paying me back. Tenfold. Last week, I found an army of tiny black ants, running amok on my kitchen floor.

I started stomping on them. I then put down bait traps. And what did they do? They laughed at me, that's what. And the next day, they brought friends. Lots and lots of friends.

We called our bug guy. He came, he sprayed, they dropped like flies. Heh.

Two days later, I opened the cabinet to take out the peanut butter. Four of those suckers were running around INSIDE the cabinet. THEY WERE NEAR THE FOOD! They saw me and ran. I swear one flipped me the bird.

"OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! Don't you have a picnic to ruin?! Fine, you wanna play?!" I half asked, half yelled at them. Thankfully, I was alone in my moment of madness.

We called the bug guy again and told him to bring the heavy ammo. I was done fooling around. This would strictly be a kick ass, take names, kind of war.

I cleaned out the cabinet. I pulled out the contact paper. I smashed the hell out of the stragglers that weren't fast enough to get away. I wiped the shelves down.

I waited for my guy and thought of my childhood and my wicked, wicked ways. I shook my head. "NO! I was only a child! I didn't know any better. I did not deserve this now!!!"

There was a knock at the door. My savior was here. He filled the bait traps with a yellow, oozing type of stuff. He told me that THIS would definitely do them in. I didn't ask what was in it. I didn't care, at this point, if the concoction was mixed with plutonium. I just wanted those pesky vermin out of my home.

So, it's been about four days now. There has been no sign of ants in my kitchen. I did, however, have a nightmare last night that involved a giant, glowing ant.

Moral of this story: Do not allow your children to harm insects; it will come back to haunt them!


Bonnie the Boss said...

Kill, kill, kill!!! That is my vote! the stupid little things bite and my motto is if they are on my turf, they die!

Jill said...

I've been finding ants in various place in my kitchen lately. One one at a time, nowhere near an "entrance" so I don't know where they come from, but I do know that they are zombie ants. Because they won't die. I smush one with my finger on the counter and it gets back up. I krinkle one up in a napkin and throw it in the garbage, next time I open the garbage, it's crawling out. Freaking zombie ants! That's effed up, yo!

Julie From Inmates said...

How funny! I'm not a big fan of any kind of bug either. Hopefully, your Ant guy took care of the problem. ;)

Patois said...

I always figure they pass on to each generation who the worst humans were. Fearing they'd end up mutant large creatures post-nuclear war, I used to save the ants that ended up in the bathtub as I was running a bath. (As a kid, mind you.) Glad they'll be coming after you guys and not me and mine.

Lisa (Jonny's Mommy) said...

Ugh! Ants! They drive me crazy. I can feel them on me now. They probably aren't on me, but I can feel them on me. We have a problem with them at work and I swear I've been trying to be careful around my desk, but they still keep coming! Argh!

I hate bugs. I wonder if I will someday pay for all the spiders I've stomped all over. Dun-dun-dun-dun!

The Fritz Facts said...

I used to pull their heads off as a child...I think my parents worried as well. I did it to Daddy Long-Legs too, only with their legs.

I used to have nightmares from the Ant in "Honey I Shrunk the Kids". I always feared that sucker would come get me. **chills just ran down my back**`