I've tried being calm. I've tried logical discourse. I've tried yelling. I've tried limb-breaking violence. None of those have worked. I am normally a patient and loving man*, but I've been ignored for two solid days now. The sanctity of my home has been violated for too long, so it's come to this.
I will kill them.
I will kill their brothers, sisters and cousins. I will kill their parents, children, neighbors, coworkers, and lovers. I will kill them all. I will kill their queen.
An Open Letter to the ants in my kitchen:
Do you remember Friday, October 19th? You probably don't. It was probably just a day, like any other day, where pheromone X led you down path Y to food item Z. In this case, however, path Y led to my kitchen.
I thought we had a deal. The deal was that you stayed out of my house, and I stayed not killing you. Now, I understand that mistakes happen. I'm sure that the construction in our house (and by construction I'm referring to the weekly visit by a subcontractor where he hammers a single nail into a piece of wood, and then carefully removes the nail so as to leave no trace of any progress) has disturbed your normal foraging paths. Also, the beginning of this year's rainy season has undoubtedly thrown your usual methodical food gathering patterns into disarray.
I get this. I'm a reasonable man. However, all that being said, get the fuck out of my kitchen.
Lord knows I'm not the best communicator. I'm sure Hank has dozens of stories about times when I was unclear about my feelings or what I needed done to my penis, but I think I made my point clear on Friday morning when I killed every single one of you in sight. I sprayed down hundreds of you with counter soap and then squished any stragglers with my thumb. Was that not effective communication? Do we need to do some mirroring exercises?
Echo this back to me: I will kill you all.
If there was some pheromone I could spray on the ground with my butt to convince you to leave, I would do that for you. Like I said, I'm a reasonable man. However, although my butt does emit a variety of unpleasant odors, none of them have convinced you to vacate my kitchen, so I've moved to Plan B. That's the plan where I kill you all.
Today I stocked up on Raid Ant Spray. I used that to spray the perimeter of my house. If you're outside of my house, you should probably stay here. If you're already inside, then please come and enjoy some death.
I also bought ant traps. They are filled with death and are quite delicious. I encourage you to share some of the deathiness with the queen. Please.
I'm also fully loaded up on 409. That's the stuff I keep squirting that kills you. Remember dying today? That was the 409! It's the last line of defense. It's also quick and kind of fun.
So, pick your poison, ants. I've got three ways to kill you, not including my blood-thirsty thumb or my "pheromone" filled ass.
Death to the queen,
* Literary license