Trail of Tears
About a week ago I started to notice a few ants every time I entered the bathroom. I never thought much of it though because there were only a few each time, and it didn't seem to impede my daily habits. My mother, who I consult with about such matters, recommended that I purchase some ant killer immediately, as she claimed there was an entire colony infested in the walls. She got me worried, so I grabbed some kind of special syrup at the hardwore store, this clear sticky substance that contains Borax. Then I placed the stuff on two small pieces of cardboard next to the toilet and went to bed.
The next day there were thousands of ants surrounding the strips, the majority in this circular pattern around the periphery. It was amazing. There were big ants and little ants, all feverishly coming and going - some drinking the syrup, some just floating in the center, a tiny little cessful of death. Occasionally one ant would jockey for position, or begin to dryhump another, and for 5-10 minutes every day I've been consumed with their every movement.
Today, a week later, I awoke and the pack has thinned out dramatically. There are a couple left - lurkers getting a few last drops - but for the most part the ants have scattered. I guess they're supposed to return to the colony, spread the poison, and then die somewhere else. That's the thing though. Some of them haven't gone away, they've just keeled over in the sink or on the floor. Better yet, I've seen a few on their final legs, including two that died while walking (they just stopped and that was it). I've seen ten seizures and at least that many strokes. I feel guilty but it's kind of cool watching them flop, one tiny little antennae shaking in fits, and then finally - nothing, the life sucked out of them right before my eyes.
Now as I scan the horizon I notice a sea of corpses, and I realize I have a calamity here bigger than anybody could have imagined. It's like a warzone, a floor of carnage, and I guess there's nothing left for me to do but scoop them up and toss them away.
The next day there were thousands of ants surrounding the strips, the majority in this circular pattern around the periphery. It was amazing. There were big ants and little ants, all feverishly coming and going - some drinking the syrup, some just floating in the center, a tiny little cessful of death. Occasionally one ant would jockey for position, or begin to dryhump another, and for 5-10 minutes every day I've been consumed with their every movement.
Today, a week later, I awoke and the pack has thinned out dramatically. There are a couple left - lurkers getting a few last drops - but for the most part the ants have scattered. I guess they're supposed to return to the colony, spread the poison, and then die somewhere else. That's the thing though. Some of them haven't gone away, they've just keeled over in the sink or on the floor. Better yet, I've seen a few on their final legs, including two that died while walking (they just stopped and that was it). I've seen ten seizures and at least that many strokes. I feel guilty but it's kind of cool watching them flop, one tiny little antennae shaking in fits, and then finally - nothing, the life sucked out of them right before my eyes.
Now as I scan the horizon I notice a sea of corpses, and I realize I have a calamity here bigger than anybody could have imagined. It's like a warzone, a floor of carnage, and I guess there's nothing left for me to do but scoop them up and toss them away.
posted by Rob Simons at 10:56 AM
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