As far as the critters in my yard go, I'm normally one to live and let live. They do their thing, I do mine, we all get along. I also try to avoid spewing chemicals all over my living space, 'cause, ya know, health and all.
Until one day when the ants came. That's when the world changed.
I'd just finished laying floor in a bedroom, and was cleaning up the tools in the back yard. Last thing to do - move the table saw from the back patio into the garage. Being summer, I was wearing shorts and flipflops. I picked up the saw and waddled my way around the side of the house. Then I felt a pain on my foot. And my calf. And knee. And ankle. I hastily dropped the table saw, looked down, and immediately did the skin slapping crazy dance as I noticed my lower legs were covered in ants.
Those little fuckers pick the worst times to attack.
That was the first offensive, and I believed them when they said they wouldn't attack any more countries. The Kaisant, one convincing guy.
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