Claw marks in the frozen peas

Fuck You, Ants.

I came home from work with hopes of kicking off my shoes and relaxing to some Apple TV. Instead, I spent an hour destroying the largest trail of ants I’ve ever laid eyes on. Before you accuse me of being a slob, let me note two things. First, my neighbor’s home is a breeding ground for ants. Also, Summer heat and Winter rain drive these sons of bitches inward. Personally, I think my neighbor is the Pied Piper of goddamn ants. She commands all 7 billion of them through the whimsical ditties she plays on her musical pipe.

My nephew does the funniest thing when he sees ants. He squeals, then says, “I kill you, ants!” and he proceeds to slap them. A proper bitch slapping is what these micro assholes need.

Why does it have to be ants? Why can’t I come home from a long day at work to find an infestation of bears? I’d be mad to see bears making sandwiches and taking naps in my bed, but the anger would quickly turn into a strong desire to hug them all.