At first there was just one or two strolling through the kitchen. I killed them immediately. I figured that was warning enough to the others. It wasn't. More are coming and not just to the kitchen now but into the bathroom, the laundry room and I swear I saw one in my bedroom. I feel no guilt over their deaths. They are, after all, invading my home not the other way around.
Here is my dilemma: the foul language that's involved. Mine, not theirs. I cannot kill the little black !#$%^&*s without also cursing each and every one, plus all their relatives. It's beginning to sound like a sailor has taken up residence here; an ill-mannered sailor with a foul mouth and a tendency toward mass murder. Sort of like Charles Manson without the charm.
Everytime I see one of these little #$%#*!*, I take it as a personal insult, an unprovoked attack on my character. I would never go into their homes uninvited. Actually, I wouldn't go if I was invited, but that is not the point. The point is the cursing. I'm willing to tolerate them as long as they stay outside. They can have the entire yard to themselves, they can have YOUR yard, I don't care! But once they make the fatal mistake of coming into my house, there will be hell to pay. If that means that an entire clan is wiped off the planet, so be it. I am prepared to make Idi Amin look like the freaking tooth fairy.
I do feel a little guilty about my, well, language. These are not words I use in polite company, though I will confess I have uttered some of them while driving. Okay, I confess. I've used ALL of them while driving. And sometimes when I'm listening to long-winded politicians and . . . well you get the picture.
So, I'm not asking for approval of my "bad words" I'm merely explaining why I've developed what appears to be an onset of Tourette's syndrome. The ants, the !#%$&*! ants.
I tried a 12 step program but that only killed 12 of the !#$%^& and that isn't really effective or long-lasting.
I realize these are just the rantings of a crazy woman but what else can I do?
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2 comments:
I tried beheading a slew of the little... er, "dears," impaling them on sewing needles and staking the needles at the entry points; alas they simply gathered up the carcasses as fresh protein.
Good luck with that language problem, from one sailor to another.
I like the image that conjurs up plus there's not as much collateral damage as mass killing.
Ahoy, Matey!
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