A Cautionary Tale

For you will discover a small battalion of ants hauling away a rogue toe nail.

My friends, these are lean times, and even the most lowly of the animal kingdom have felt their fair share of hardship. We humans can no longer afford to be so careless with our crumbs, so you would think that our dear ant guests would either starve or stay outside (WHERE THEY BELONG) and find food there, right?

Haha.
That’s what the ants said, I heard them.

And I imagine this dialogue prompted the entire event:

Ant Bob: Hey, Billy, whatcha got there?

Ant Billy: Oh hey Bob. I was just kinda running around and I ran into this thing and now I’m taking it home.

Ant Bob: NICE. Hey Carl! Come help us haul over this thing!

Ant Carl: Thing?? What thing? 

Ant Billy: *This* thing! It smells weird so I’m taking it home!

Ant Carl: OH COOL. Hey Jimmy, come help us get this thing!!

Et cetera.

And in the morning, you will awaken from sweet dreams to a commotion on your nightstand. A small black army will be clamoring to feed on your tasty, tasty discarded keratin bits, and you will watch in varying levels of horror, disgust, and intrigue. Next of course you’ll commandeer the nearest hose vacuum to eradicate the bulk of them, and follow up by spraying the stragglers with Victoria’s Secret Fragrance Mist. That’ll teach them to eat things that aren’t food.

“Very Sexy” this Ant Billy.

For if you do, you will end up with your car stalled in the middle of the street.

“Damn frakking mosquito!” you’ll thunder. “How dare you buzz around my head while I’m driving and too occupied to properly defend myself!”

Not only does she attempt to suck the life fluids from your body, thereby creating an itch intense enough to wake you in the dead of night, but her dancing all up in your car will seriously mess up your lyrical flow to Niggas in Paris.

Heeeeeck No.

So you think, Why don’t I just let down the window? No harm, no foul. Minimal movement on my part, and the change in air pressure will just suck her right out, right? (or something.) Science 1, Skeeter 0.

What you didn’t realize is that you’re dealing with a demon mosquito.
She has heard your unholy thoughts, and she wants revenge.

So instead of a simple exodus from your vehicle, all the lights in your car suddenly turn off, the brakes gets harder and harder to push, and the gas pedal has gone kaput. Madam Mosquito is merciful, and has allowed you just enough momentum to coast into the local library parking lot, but no more. You are now in a dead car, 1/4 of the way into a parking space, lopsided and helpless as a mofo.

It is only as you are frantically calling your parents that she decides your blood really isn’t worth it and disappears into the night, off to play mind games with some other hapless victim.

May the wise heed this tale of woe. And God help us all.

For if you do, you will stumble upon an infomercial for the Brazilian Butt Lift.