Have I told you lately about my trials with the ants? You may not have been listening, probably because this has been going on for more than a year. They even relocated with me. I've found them firmly installed in my favorite palm tree pot, hunting on the bathroom floor, crawling on the bedspread, pooling under the carpet like a water leak. And every time I squish, and hunt, and destroy any happy home of theirs I can find.
"Oh wont the ants please fuck themselves?" I ask.
But yesterday, a breakthrough: I flooded out The Queen from a potted plant I'm certain she wasn't in a week ago. And what a hot bitch she was too: 10 times larger than her scouts and with wings. I did her in with a flourish, and then whooped and hollered from joy for the next hour!
The Queen is dead! Long live The Queen!
