Look at them. Fiends. They assume they have the upper hand. Dominance by numbers. I haven't slept for days. In the dim moonlight I watch them form three lines and move as one straight into my kitchen.
But I am onto them. Where there are crumbs there are ants and where there are poisoned crums there are piles of dead ants.
A man does what he must to control his space.
Yes, I poisoned a bag of fudge cookies and crunched them into a million crumbs. But as I retrace my actions I realize in my sleep deprived state I may have poisoned the bag before taking them to my book discussion group. One gluttonous woman, Babs, ate every one that was put out. At least ten in all.
I must call her and plead she race to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. She never finishes the book we choose and interrupts my points, but she must be valued as a human being.
Please pick up. Please.
Oh no. I dialed the wrong number. Sorry Paul. Yes, I know its 2am. Go back to sleep. Well, that was pretty harsh.
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